This Affair Is Confidential
by Iggycat
Summary: England is an undercover spy who prefers to work alone. America is new and quite inexperienced. A mission brings them together, but it's also the only thing that can pull them apart. USUK Spy AU
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rights go to the respected owners. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.

A/N: Just so everything's clear none of this is real :) The industry and places are made up (except London of course... but i kinda hope you knew that already...) My first attempt at a chapter fic~ Enjoy!

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Footsteps hit the cold concrete in sync as two men walked through the dark, shadowed halls of a secret building deep in the heart of London.

"It's nice to see you E-England. Your visits to headquarters are far too few."

Green eyes flickered over to get a better look at the man addressing him. Who was he again? Arthur simply could not recall. Trying to remember the codenames everyone was given was quite a challenge. He himself had an alias, going by 'England' rather than his birth name.

"Ah yes well, you generally only call me to H. Q. when it's something serious. I take it you have a mission for me?"

The shorter man peeked up at him from behind wired frames. He was rather quiet, and not quite memorable. He had long, flowing caramel hair with one misbehaving strand that enjoyed curling and sprawling out in front of his face. His violet eyes locked with emerald ones before he spoke.

"Indeed we do. You have heard of Zlo industries correct?"

England tapped his chin deep in thought. "Hmm… I believe they are a company famous for their breakthroughs in technology. Is that correct?"

The other man nodded as they continued sauntering down the deserted and lonely hall.

"They've invented some new type of mobile that will be released later this month, about two weeks or so. But there's something strange about the company. They've worked in secret for the past four years only opening up to the public last March. Since then they've released several new inventions and this mobile is the latest."

"Is that right?" England looked up at the violet eyed man. His name was Canada right? Eh, he'd give it a shot. "Would you mind elaborating a bit more Canada?"

"Certainly England sir. Well basically this new phone is a handy gadget. Not only is this piece of technology a phone, it also yields many other uses. It's a fully functional computer as well as music player. Of course it sounds like a lovely accessory but there's something that raises it high above the competition."

England paused in his step and turned to face Canada. He quirked his eyebrows up in curiosity.

"It's completely voice commanded. Say it and it's done. Speak a name and it's ringing. Speak a message and it's sent. It's an astounding advancement."

"That's amazing. But I still don't understand, what does that have to do with me?"

Canada glanced down at the floor and then back up at his comrade. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his trousers and released a short sigh before he spoke.

"Zlo industries… has a strange way of doing things. First off, they're headquartered in Klaoud which is quite a few miles southeast of Moscow. Their factories are bound by heavily guarded men, as if they wish to protect something."

"Do continue," said England as he motioned with a hand gesture.

"Stranger still, after working in secrecy for the past few years, the company has spontaneously decided to do something rather bizarre and peculiar. They've opted to bestow these new mobiles to important heads of business, free of charge. A sponsor of the company stated that 'It will allow quicker, smarter, faster global communications. The world will turn as one.'"

England chanced a glance at the generally quiet man who was suddenly releasing all this valuable information. He chewed the inside of his cheek, mulling over these new findings.

"I'm not astonished that you believe there's something wrong with the company, only that it took you so long to contact me. How do you expect me to gather enough information in a span of only two weeks?" England seemed to look straight through Canada with his intense jade eyes. "Or have you something in mind?"

"Actually we do England…" the Canadian promptly turned his head to the side. He mumbled out the last part of his statement, "but you're not gonna like it…"

The Briton softened his gaze but continued to stare down the other man nonetheless.

"Come now Canada. You know when it comes to espionage there is none better than myself. There's a reason I'm the first one on your list of contacts for something so serious, you know I'm willing to take pain or woe or whatever it may be."

The Canadian stuttered and quickly spit out his response, "E-England it's not that! I know you're the best spy we've got… it's just …just that… this assignment ….you… you'll have too…" the man's words slowly died off.

"Spit it out lad, I said I can take it."

The reply came quickly and quietly, in a string of words England hastily deciphered.

"You'llhavetoworkwithapartner…"

Hush surrounded the two and England stood there, stone cold silent. He was never one for working efficiently with others, for his social skills were not terribly practical, and though they sufficed enough to get by, he preferred to work alone. These reasons justified why he picked a career in intelligence; only having to interact with other others long enough to obtain information. In England's opinion, having to cooperate with another only hindered his effort and added an extra burden.

England rubbed his temples clearly agitated over the current situation. Why was it necessary he work with an associate? Everyone in the building, Canada especially, knew damn well that England preferred work alone. In fact Canada was one of the few he was even able to get along with, thanks to his calm but diligent manner. He was barely able to stand that French frog who supplied him with technology and tools for his missions, for the better part of five minutes. The Briton sighed irritated and looked back up at the other man.

"I suppose if it's absolutely necessary…" his tone was gentle, not wanting to alarm the already anxious Canadian, "but I do insist you inform me as to why this is so crucial to the mission."

The younger man smiled, seeming to be temporarily relieved that the Brit had not outright rejected the assignment.

"S-Sure thing England! B-But it would be a lot easier if I only had to explain it once."

At that the Canadian stopped abruptly and turned to face a large metal door. He slid a key card through a reader to its right and then pushed open the oversized entrance way.

With the barrier between the hallway and room eliminated, England wasted no time peeking over Canada's shoulder to marvel at its contents. A tall, and admirably young, blue-eyed man sat smack in the middle of the room, looking quite comfortable on a sleek black leather sofa. His gaze locked with England's and his smug smile grew about 20 times larger, lighting up the room.

"England, I'd like you to meet agent America."

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**Well what did you think? Did ya like it? Should I scrap it? Please review! Whether or not I continue is up to you :D**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rights go to the respected owners. Enjoy :)

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The first thing England thought to do was laugh.

"Pfffft! What is this Canada? You sent me a boy? Very funny, now where's my new associate?"

The quiet man looked up and the Briton in shock, clearly not anticipating that type of a response. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by another's words.

"I'm not a boy! I'll have you know I'm 22 years old, and I'm damn well ready for this mission!" A pause followed by a chuckle, "'Bout time they upgraded from antiques like you, don't ya think?"

By now the taller man had strolled up to stand directly in front of England. He looked confident, back straight with excellent posture, as if trying to drive home his point. He glared down at infuriated green eyes, knowing full well what he'd said, and to whom he'd said it.

England failed to suppress a growl from the back of his throat. He matched the man's gaze trying to burn right through him with his eyes.

"You…" the Brit was ready to go on a complete rant, and he sure as hell planned to, "For one thing, 27 is _not_ old, and rather than being insufferably young and idiotic like you, I've ascertained maturity and the ability to not be a git! Do you know who I am? I've lived and breathed espionage since I could walk! You have no right to talk down to-"

"G-Guys!"

The pair averted their gazes from each other and met upon terrified violet eyes.

"Y-you guys haven't even known each other for five minutes and you're already arguing. P-Please stop!"

Both men looked from Canada to each other, and then simultaneously at the floor.

"I do apologize… That was rather juvenile and foolish. Perhaps we could start over?"

A modest nod from the American, followed by a gesture to the couch.

"Let's sit down. We'll be more comfortable."

Sky blue eyes worked only to compliment the now genuine beam the man let out. England casually followed, sitting across from the new comer, and besides Canada.

"Well then. I'll start. My name is-"

"Your name is England. Your 27 years old and have been working as a spy since you were all of 16. You were born in England, but refuse to disclose the exact location. You're parents died when you were quite young, but they had connections so you somehow ended up here. You're the absolute best in the business and you're success rate is yet to be surpassed. You love tea, but even more so you like a good book. Oh! And as I've come to believe, no one knows your real name."

England was paralyzed and could do nothing more than blink. When he finally managed to regain the use of his body, he nodded and crossed one leg on top of the other, trying to look a tad more distinguished.

"Well it certainly seems someone's done their research. Perhaps I was wrong about you; as young and inexperienced as you are, you might become a noteworthy partner.

America smiled at that, doing a little victory fist pump in the air to celebrate; though before he got too far, he was interrupted by England's superior voice.

"Well as much as I hate to admit it, I don't seem to be as well read up on you as you are on me. Please do indulge me with a bit more about yourself."

The taller blonde nodded blissfully, feeling rather fortunate that someone as powerful and important as England would be willing to give him the time of day.

"I'd love to England! Well since you refuse to tell anyone your real name, I'll do the same," he smiled cocking a brow, "I'll go by America, since really, what's more epic than having the most heroic country ever as your nickname?"

England could think of quite a few things that were more 'epic' than this but he disregarded these thoughts and continued to let the man talk.

"Well it all started when the most awesome baby ever was born in a tiny little city outside of Houston, Texas…"

* * *

"OH! And then once when I was 8, my dad took me on this trip to Yellowstone, which was totally awesome by the way, and I saw a giant grizzly bear!"

"_Dear god," _England thought, "_this boy doesn't know when to shut his mouth. How could he possibly be a spy? I've spent the last half hour listening to him babble on about his childhood. But I digress… he is rather attractive though…"_

As quickly as England had allowed that thought into his mind, it was quickly discharged by a prompt shake of his head. He'd learned more about America from the last 30 minutes of him speaking than he really cared to know. Perhaps he should butt in now before he was subjected to learn more about America's lovely life, growing up in the tremendously 'awesome' U-S- of A.

"Ah a grizzly bear you say? That's quite remarkable. I'd love to hear more America," he knew he was lying, "truly I would, but I do believe Canada has called us both here for some rather serious business."

He exchanged looks between America and Canada who seemed to be in accord, and then prodded the hushed man to tell them why they were both here; and more importantly, why they'd be working together.

"Go on Canada. The ball is in your court."

A series of giggles was emitted from a certain American before he could start.

"O-Ok well," the Canadian seemed to be choosing his words carefully, "England, w-why don't you sit next to America s-so I can address you both as I'm speaking."

England found nothing out of the ordinary with this statement and so he immediately complied. He stood, walked to the other side of the curved leather sofa, and sat down next to the taller, younger man. He'd ensured to leave enough space between the two, sitting up against an armrest while America sat on the middle cushion, but of course his plan had promptly backfired as the blue-eyed man slide over right next to England, slinging an arm around him.

"Watch yourself lad…" England hissed as blush drifted over his cheeks and he escaped America's snug hold. The golden blonde only smiled, removing his arm, but not moving an inch away from the Briton.

"Alright!" America suddenly piped up, "Me and Mr. Stuck-up here are ready to be briefed on our awesome mission."

England simply sighed irritated. He'd only known America for all of 30 minutes, but already he was used to his playful insults and ministrations. To an extent it was annoying, but it also sort of added to his charm.

"O-ok you guys ready?"

The two men nodded in sync.

"A-Alright well. So the reason we called you both here… Well as you've learned from your introductions, England is our top spy, and America seems to be a new and upcoming prodigy."

America teasingly poked England in the side.

"Hear that Iggy? He called me a prodigy. That's pretty much saying I'm the hero!"

"Yes well, I'm amazed your microscopic brain can make sense of such a big word." He chuckled at his own joke "And what was that you called me? It's England idiot, I refuse to go by whatever dim-witted nickname you've come up with."

"Iggy, Iggy, Iggy!" Each reiteration was met with another poke in the side.

"It's England! Do not call me by that insufferable pet name!"

"Iggy! Igg-"

"SH-SHUT UP!"

Sapphire and Emerald eyes widened in mutual surprise and shock at the sound of the Canadian's enraged voice.

"I need to explain this mission, and I'm gonna do it now! You're both going to sit down, and shut up! Do you understand?"

The pair nodded their heads furiously, almost terrified of the quiet man's frustrated outburst. They sat back and gave their full attention to Canada.

"Good. W-well let's get started then. So you're both aware that the suspicious Zlo industry will be releasing its new mobile phone exactly two weeks from today, correct?"

Two attentive and affirmative nods.

"Awesome. Ok s-so in two weeks from today, a Saturday, the CEO of the company will release the phone at an introduction ceremony in Moscow. From there he will supposedly use a special 'start' command to initiate operation of all the phones."

The Canadian stopped for a moment, ensuring he still had full attention prior to continuing.

"The day before this ceremony will be a formal party for exclusive patrons who have, or will be, purchasing a considerable amount of the new cellular... That's where you two come in."

The pair exchanged looks, still not quite understanding.

"Pardon me Canada, but I still don't quite follow."

"Yeah me too... I don't really get it."

The Canadian drew in a pained breath and exhaled thoroughly.

"I was just getting to that…" the man closed his eyes and reopened them slowly, seeming as if he would regret what he was about to say.

"The two of you… together will infiltrate the party. You'll … you'll be entering as two perspective clients who plan to acquire about 5,000 or so models of this new phone for your company."

"Continue," coaxed England.

"You'll be undercover as two professional businessmen; they've agreed to allow you to use their names to gain access to the party. Using their identities, you'll already have invitations to the festivities, and Zlo will be expecting you."

The Canadian withdrew two manila folders and handed one to each of the spies.

"These contain each of your new identities needed for this mission. You'll have 24 hours from the time you arrive at the party until the new release ceremony to gather information and figure out what the business is up to. Don't worry about Zlo knowing what the men you're posing as look like, for the company will have no idea. You see these two men are… they tend to stay secluded from the outside world even though they are corporate executives… That made them ideal choices you see…"

"That makes perfect sense! You're so freakin' smart Canada!" the American beamed at him.

Next to him the Briton sat still, unconvinced.

"Dare I ask why they live such private lives, Canada?"

The Canadian feigned innocence releasing a small, forced chuckle.

"Oh… I was really hoping you wouldn't ask that England…though it's nothing criminal I promise."

Jade eyes locked with violet, waiting patiently.

"Ah.. Well… Umm… You see…" he derailed, quickly turning his head to the side.

"Dude what is it? I'm sure the hero here can handle it."

"Uh…." the Canadian pulled at his tie to loosen it. He suddenly thought it was quite warm in the small room.

"Canada please. America and I have both already agreed to this mission, and we're not backing out now. Please just tell us what this small setback is and I assure you, we will handle it in a mature and sophisticated man-"

"The two men are gay."

Blue and green eyes doubled, and then tripled in size as those five simple words sunk in. If they were… then that meant…

"So… you two… you'll be undercover as a couple…"

England opened his mouth to comment but his mouth had gone bone dry. He had much to say, but the words seemed to be stuck in his throat. Luckily, America spoke for him.

"Wait so… we have to like… be in love and stuff?"

"Well that was the idea… considering that's what couples do…"

The Canadian looked at them with apprehensive, almost pleading, lavender eyes before he continued.

" L-look I know it's not ideal, but you two are our only hopes, and this is our only chance to figure out what's going on at Zlo. I don't know who else we could possibly turn to. Please…"

"I'll do it."

Surprised glances were thrown between the two agents when they realized they'd spoken up simultaneously. America grinned and offered his hand to his new colleague.

England eyed it momentarily before he grasped it. He could see now that though America was inexperienced and young, he was also extremely dedicated. It gave the Englishman a sort of respect, and a new positive outlook on his partner.

"I look forward to working with you England."

"The same to you America."

The two shook on it and looked back at a now relieved and smiling Canadian.

"G-Great. The two of you will have 11 days to learn to work with each other and prepare. On day twelve you'll return here for a quick recap and to receive your tools and gadgets for the mission. Once obtained, you'll take the next plane out to Moscow," he smiled at the two as he headed for the door, "Th- Thank you both so much for your clear devotion. I'll be going now to get an immediate start on preparation for your assignment; I do look forward to seeing you two again."

With that the quiet man walked swiftly out of the room, leaving the newly acquainted spies alone in silence.

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**A/N: What did you think? Please, Please, Please review :D I'd love to know your thoughts on the story!**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rights go to the respected owners. Also all the names are fake, they're not based off of anyone. Oh. and I don't own iPod... obviously

A/N: First of all, thank you to everyone who has reviewed and read this story! It means so much, thank you! Secondly, forgive me if you think I move too fast but the two are only together for 2 weeks! Anyway I hope you like it :)

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"You're not half bad old man."

The young American shot an award winning smile at his British partner as the Brit's bullet penetrated yet another target.

"Well I would surely hope so after 11 years in this business."

America chuckled and walked over to examine the damage from the gun. It was their last day of training together and the two of them had bonded quite a bit. Of course, England was yet to bow down to his heroic awesome; but all in good time right?

"Right in the heart England."

The American clutched at his chest in exasperation, making an overdramatic scene. It was the Brit's turn to snicker now as he watched the show.

"Oh belt up. It's hard enough for me to restrain from shooting you, what with your big mouth and all."

He sneered at his American counterpart, sending him a mocking smile. All in all, America wasn't half bad. As obnoxious as he was, England couldn't deny that the boy was smart, and tremendously cunning. He was also extremely talented with a pistol, and had a knack for getting out of tight situations. England had seen this ability in the many simulators they'd been in over the past 11 days.

"_England don't move."_

"_Well why ever not?"_

"_You're standing right in front of a trip to an alarm."_

_ The Brit glanced around but was not able to locate anything that looked even remotely like an alarm._

"_America I think I wound know if-"_

"_Stay still. It's invisible but it's there. I'll deactivate it."_

_ The American proceeded to leap from his position in the corner of the simulation room, up onto a windowsill. It was only then that England saw it. Concealed by the lavender material of the curtains was a small white box. No doubt it was an alarm control. America quickly inspected the monitor, deciding how he would go about this. He seized a pocket knife from his belt and pried it open. Examining the inside, the American took his sweet time in deciding which wire he should cut. Eventually he came to his decision and sliced one of the delicate wires in half. He rolled his head to the side and sent an enormous grin toward the Brit._

"_Ok you're good! The hero has saved the day!"_

_ England simply stared at him in awe for a few moments, before his senses came back to him. He had no idea that's the younger's tactics were so amazingly formidable. Before he realized what he was doing, the Briton had started to clap._

"_Bravo America."_

_ The blue eyed man beamed at him before he leapt back down to the floor. Once settled, he opted to take a bow._

_ England could do little to stop his smile._

"Ennnnng-laaaand. Yoo-hoo. Anyone home?" the American casually poked him in the side, effectively returning him from his flashback.

"Oh… uh… my apologies. I seem to have zoned out there."

The American chuckled and gave him a solid pat on the back.

"Yep ya did! Hey it's getting kinda late England, how about we retire for the night? You seem wiped and I'm starv-"

His stomach finished his sentence for him. The younger spy pinked a bit at his tummy's boisterous outburst, finding it a bit embarrassing. However, England merely laughed. He didn't understand why, but for some reason America had started to grow on him.

"Sounds good America. Why don't you go on ahead, and I'll catch up later. Warm up some pizza while I put the artillery away."

Cerulean eyes closed and the man nodded in the affirmative. He pivoted on his heels and turned to walk back to their 'home base' which was essentially just a room on the grounds that they had been assigned to share. England watched him until he was out of sight, and then looked down at the gun he was still holding in his right hand.

"_You know, I never really realized how brilliantly blue his eyes are. They're quite astonishing. They remind me of the sky; wide and limitless. And his hair... Golden blonde, with that strange strand that refuses to stay put," he paused in his thoughts to chuckle, "but it's cute…"_

England realized the error of his ways but it far too late. He'd already gone red in the face from his latest thoughts. The man turned away and looked back at his banged up target, thankful that no one was there to see his odd behavior.

"_It's just… my current mindset. Clearly I'm trying to get into character for this mission. Yes, most definitely. Simply trying to fit my roll…"_

The jade eyed man inhaled leisurely as a pensive look crossed his features. There was nothing wrong with him; he was simply working to fit his role as Mr. Height, (this was the name of his cover, a man who was rich, powerful, and… gay?) who was engaged to Mr. Burrows (America's cover). These thoughts… they certainly weren't his. No, he was simply getting used to being in his undercover state of mind. There was nothing out of the ordinary; he was just doing his job.

England sighed again as he tried to convince himself of this. He started to walk back toward the room where the weaponry was stored, but looked back once more at the fake human target he'd battered.

"_Right in the heart England."_

He tried to shake his head, dismissing these thoughts, but it was no use. England may have hit the target, but perhaps his heart had been hit as well.

* * *

"So what's your name Iggy?"

"Well it's most definitely not that degrading nickname you seem to enjoy addressing me by. It's England, I thought you knew that."

"No, no!" the American shook his head to emphasize his point, "I meant, what's your _real_ name? You know the one your parents gave you."

England cocked his head to the side, and furrowed his brows, quite puzzled over the other man's inquiry.

"I'm not compelled to tell you that America," he stated as he looked into inquisitive, glossy eyes.

"Ah come on! I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours! Come on, come on, come on!" he playfully punched his comrade in the shoulder.

England groaned. He may be cute… but damn it he was annoying.

"America I am _not_ required to tell you my name, and you are _not _required to tell me your name. We'll follow these rules as they apply. I will address you as America and you will address me as England. Our names must be kept confidential."

America didn't frown, no his expression didn't even falter. He kept on his phony smiled, and laughed himself through it, though it was rather obvious to England that his cackle was fake. His disposition had remained intact, but he had a key feature that gave him away. Beautiful blue orbs.

Those who didn't know America all that well wouldn't notice a difference in the normally perky American, but the Briton surely did. Granted he'd only known America for a little more than a week, but even he noticed a distinction. England could read America through his eyes. They could convey such genuine emotions, when America himself was not being sincere. England was looking at those eyes now and they displayed true disappointment. By now America had brushed it off, and had launched into some conversation about where he had eaten his first hamburger, but the Briton wasn't paying attention. He felt horrible; as if because he'd dismissed America's question, he had committed some unlawful act. It wasn't fair that the American possessed so much power with his sky blue eyes. Not fair in the slightest.

"America," the Briton casually interrupted, "it's late and I'm rather tired. We have a busy day tomorrow so I propose that we get a good night's sleep tonight. Speaking from experience, you generally don't have any relaxation time during missions, so I suggest we both get some rest."

America smiled and stuck his tongue out. He seemed to have fully recovered from the earlier incident.

"No problem sweetheart, I know you need your beauty sleep."

America chuckled quietly, and before he turned around and headed to his cot, he blew England a kiss. The Brit failed to stifle the crimson blush that crept onto his cheeks. America was clearly joking, but he still felt himself heat up and a strange little pang in his heart at the endearment. He thought no more of it as he promptly retreated to his bed and turned out the lights.

* * *

"G-great to have you guys back. How'd training go?"

"It was awesome!" the American declared as he wrapped his arms around England's shoulders, "England and I get along epically!" he squeezed the Brit affectionately, "We're gonna be the best spy team since... since… uh…"

"Right well. Training went just fine. Amazingly so, America's observation is accurate. For some extraordinary reason, we are able to cooperate quite well."

Canada grinned at those words as he stopped in front of another monstrous metal door. Again he pulled a key card, scanned it and opened the door to a well lit room.

"W-well I'm glad to hear that. The fact that you two cooperate is v-vital to this mission," he motioned the two inside the room, "Though to complete this assignment successfully you'll need some gadgets as well, no?"

The three blondes stepped into the room and immediately encountered a lengthy metal table. At the side closest to door from which they'd entered were two steel seats designated for the spies. At the opposite end, there stood another steel chair which had already filled. America stared at the unknown man occupying it for a moment: blue eyes, long flowing blonde hair, and a fair amount of stubble on his chin. America's first impression of the man probably would have been a fine one, except for one key issue; England growled.

"Bonjour Angleterre. It has been awhile since we last saw each other, oui?"

England ignored him and rolled his eyes as he took a seat. America copied his mentor and plunked himself down across from the new found Frenchman. He didn't understand why the Brit wasn't fond of him. Sure the accent was a bit annoying, but that was no reason to create hatred ov- what was that? Did the man just wink at him? Ok now he could see why England detests him…

"So rude Angleterre. I say hello and you promptly ignore me. Why you haven't even introduced me," he paused for dramatic effect, and then put a rather seductive tone on the last half of his sentence, "to your lovely new friend."

England scoffed and then sent a glare at the Frenchman.

"I see no need to introduce the two of you when I'm sure you already know plenty about him. You must have needed to know the purpose and members of this mission to be able to pick out tools for us. I'm sure you're already well acquainted with America."

The young blonde smiled sheepishly and muttered a quiet "Hey…"

"Oh England you never change. Always bitter ever since you were a boy. Never wanted to spend time with people, or learn about l'amour. You simply want me to give you your toys and leave. It's such a shame Angleterre. You have so much promise, even with those caterpillar eyebrows."

America looked from the Briton to the Frenchman, trying to absorb all this new information. Was it really true that England never hung out with other people? He couldn't be that much of a loner right? He laid his gaze back on the British man, who was now a light shade of pink. England looked angry, but he also looked a little sad. His scowl that could generally silence an entire room had been weakened. America didn't comprehend why, but his heart suddenly went out to the Brit. He was pissed at this French guy; no one was allowed to make fun of Iggy except him.

"Hey shut up. England's eyebrows are awesome. You have no opinion on the matter."

Three sets of shocked eyes settled themselves on America. Canada's violets were genuinely surprised that the American had spoken up. The Frenchman's blue seemed entertained and almost a bit inspired at his rash comment. And then there were emeralds. Emeralds that expressed so much, it was hard, if not impossible, for America to read them. He suddenly felt his face heat up being this uncomfortable center of attention.

A few moments of awkward silence passed between the four men before the quietest among them decided to break it.

"S-so… umm France, why don't you show America and England what you've found for them? Th-that is why they're here after all."

"Oui mon précieux Canada," he smiled slyly at the violet eyed man before diving under the table and coming back up with a metal tray full of goodies. He laughed ingenuously as he caught sight of America's reaction. The man's eyes had doubled in size as he looked over the items on the tray. It was like seeing a kid in a candy store.

"I'll start with you first England, oui?" he didn't wait for an answer before picking up the first item off the table, "An iPod. Newest generation and fully functional, but also much more useful than the average one," he grinned while plugging in the headphones, "Insert the headphones and this becomes a useful listening device. For example," the man cranked up the volume and then placed the device over his heart. He selected a certain function on the machine and laid the headphones out on the table so the other men could hear. With a click of a button the whole room was subject to the sound of the man's heartbeat. America for one was absolutely amazed.

"THAT'S SO COOL! WHAT DO YOU HAVE FOR ME?"

The Frenchman grinned at America as he passed the iPod over to the Briton.

"Ah, quite eager, no? Let's see what I have for you."

The next item for France to pick up was a digital watch. Simple enough, it had a black band with a small square screen in the center, which posted the current time. America looked at it a bit puzzled.

"Great for telling the time of day, but also great for locating Angleterre," the man winked. He pressed a button on the side of the watch, causing the screen to glow and the format to change. The new screen now had two blinking dots, one red and one blue, "England is the red dot, so that makes you the blue. It's linked to the iPod. England should always have that on him so if need be; you can locate him using this. Also in vice versa, England can locate you using the iPod."

America just stared at the watch in wonder. For some reason he felt like a kid again, who had just received a brand new toy.

"Oh also," the Frenchman interrupted, "It can be used for one more thing if needed," he paused and pointed to a small button on the side of the watch, "press this and in 30 seconds the watch becomes an effective smoke grenade. Make sure you throw it far away from you."

He finished his statement and handed the watch to the still-astounded American.

"I shall move on, oui?" he picked up a small package of chewing gum, "This is extremely adhesive, sticks to absolutely everything besides the wrapper. Do not under any circumstances touch it, but it can be useful in sticky situations."

England snickered as the Frenchman passed the package to America.

"What do you think you're doing France, equipping a child? You haven't given me that chewing gum as a tool since I was 17."

France simply brushed of the comment and smiled, "You never know Angleterre, might come in handy. But also just in case," he raised two pistols for the spies, "I also have these for you," he smiled and bestowed the weapons on the pair.

He waited a few moments as the agents examined their new toys before he interrupted.

"And of course I have one more lovely item for each member of the happy couple."

America and England exchanged looks, but quickly turned away when they realized they were blushing. France smirked and then reached into his pocket to pull out two ring boxes. He popped them both open and held them in front of the agents.

Both pairs of eyes widened as they saw the contents of each box. Beautiful golden bands, with a perfectly cut white diamond in the center. The rings were exquisite but they were also something else-

"Those are engagement rings you bloody frog! What do you propose we do with them?" cried a furious, and rather embarrassed Briton.

"Oh Angleterre, if you would only give me a moment to speak I could tell you that."

England crossed his arms and remained quiet.

"Now then, these rings may look fabulous, after all the king of fashion _did_ pick them out, but they're actually much practical; they're to be used in case of emergency," he paused and took one between his fingers, "Since you're undercover as a team you'll almost always be together, however, if by chance you're separated, and one of you finds yourself in danger, you can use your ring to alert the other."

Slowly France turned the ring around in his fingers; the diamond glistening in the florescent light.

"Look closely and you'll see the diamond is not 100% secure," the two spies craned their necks to look, "This allows for it to be pushed down just slightly," he demonstrated this with the ring in his hand, lightly pushing down on the diamond, "When one of you does this, it will activate the other's ring. They alert by heat, so once one is activated, the other will heat up rather intensely. Do not worry, for it won't burn you, but you'll definitely be aware of the sensation," he pointed toward the other ring, still at home in its box, "Go on, touch."

America, much more anxious than England, reached out immediately to touch the ring. He wasn't surprised to find that the Frenchman had spoke the truth, and that the opposing ring was wrapped in heat. England touched it as well, but was much less amazed then his partner.

France handed the Briton the ring in his hand, and America accepted the boxed one, "Well I hope you like my goodies," the French man said with a wink. England batted his hand away as he slipped on his ring.

"Umm yeah thanks France. All this stuff is awesome!" the American stated with an enormous grin, "It'll help me be the hero!"

"Excellent. Well pleasure working with you Angleterre and Amérique. I wish you nothing but the best in your _affairs."_

The Frenchman stood up, politely pushed in his seat and left the room. The Canadian that had been forgotten in the corner walked over to the newly available chair and took a seat. America was a little ashamed that in all the excitement of receiving his gadgets, he'd forgotten Canada was there.

"O-ok so you're almost all good to go. I'll just quickly recap and then you'll be off on your way," he waited for consent, "Alright s-so as soon as we finish our discussion here you'll be escorted to the airport. Your plane leaves in approximately 2 hours so you should have time. Your flight is about four hours. By the time you get there it should be relatively early. You are to report to the Braginski mansion where you will be housed. Mr. Braginski, who is the owner of Zlo, has been nice enough to allow his guests rooms in one of his personal mansions. Festivities will start around 11 am. Go there and m-mingle with other guests and workers. See if you can acquire any information on the business. The formal party will then start at 6 o'clock. Ensure that your there on time, and again s-see what kind of information you can get."

The Canadian stopped for a pause and a quick breath, and then went ahead and continued.

"The n-new phone will be released at 11 am the following day so you have approximately 24 hrs to figure out what's going on with the company. I hope you two like working under pressure," he offered the two a smile, "Oh and one more thing!"

Canada pushed himself up, out of his seat and quickly walked to the corner of the room where two lonely briefcases had been placed. Neither spy had noticed them until just now. Canada lifted the packages and brought them over handing one to each agent.

"Th- these contain 2 changes of clothes. The first set is some nice, but casual attire for your arrival at Zlo and while you are at the festivities. The second set is formal wear for the gala. As soon as your plane touches down in Russia, you are to change into your casual attire and become your new identity. There's also a mobile phone which is directly wired here in case you need to contact us. Any last questions before you begin?"

Both spies nodded in the negative.

"G-great well then, good luck."

* * *

**Like it? Please review :D I'm sorry if you think any of the gadgets are cheesy or whatever XD**


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Hetalia is not mine, and neither is anything else mentioned.

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has stuck with this story and reviewed! I hope you're enjoying it :)

* * *

"I am going to murder whoever picked out this outfit."

"Well then I bet France is a dead man, huh Iggy?"

America chuckled at his own joke. Though changing in the airport bathroom was not ideal, he'd managed, and his outfit was not that bad. A pair of comfy blue jeans, and a dress shirt which he wore casually with a few buttons undone, thus exposing his undershirt. He thought it was ironic though, that for being a supposed resourceful spy on a current mission, it had taken him absolutely forever to remove the price tags. He was totally strong! They just… they were stubborn. Weird how France didn't equip them with scissors… Well whatever, good thing America was ready for anything! The young blonde was always one step ahead, and conveniently had his Swiss Army knife (that he'd had ever since he was a scout) on him, and he'd done away with those silly price tags.

"You need me to cut the tags?"

A pause followed by a huff.

"No. It's just getting these damn pants on. They're two bloody sizes too small. Comfortable clothing my arse."

America snorted. Ah British humor; well not really. It was… it was really just England humor. The guy could be hilarious when he wanted, but if America tried to get him to laugh, it generally just provoked a blush, followed by a nasty comment.

"Come out! I wanna see my fiancé!"

The American paused and looked around. Good, there was still no one in the bathroom. Upon entering, England had placed a yellow 'bathroom in cleaning' sign out front. He wasn't really sure where it had come from, or where England had gotten it but whatever; he admitted it was a smart move.

On the other side of the bathroom stall, England was doing his best to turn back into his proper English gentleman self, rather than the tomato he had become. Damn America for being so… giddy. Yes, he knew it was their cover, but America didn't have to be so smart about it… He didn't have to say it in that teasing tone that made England… made England…

"Iggyyy! I want to see thee!"

A sigh was emitted from the Briton. There was no escaping this. He looked down at himself, at this new 'comfortable' clothing. He knew the outfit was a necessary evil, but still… If France _had_ picked out the clothing, he was as good as dead. England took one last lengthy breath and tentatively undid the lock to his stall. His door opened and the American's jaw dropped.

America gawked, simply stood and stared. England was… England looked… He wasn't going to deny it; England looked hot. The American eyed him up and down. He was wearing a purple v-neck t-shirt, rather tight America noted, with a black button vest on top of that. Wow that really made him look suave… Cerulean eyes dared to go further and traveled downward. Oh. My. God. He was wearing skinny jeans; and not only that, but they must have been designer or something because they _really _made him look amazing. Again, America couldn't help but notice that the jeans were extremely tight.

"_That's alright though," he thought, "They really show off England's as-"_

"Idiot! Eyes up here!" The Briton was pointing to his beautiful emerald eyes.

"_Wait beautiful? I did not just think that. And that whole thing about his ass…"_

The American flushed bright red at his thoughts. Slowly, he looked back up at England and realized that his cheeks had taken on a brilliant crimson as well. Ok so now there were two grown men blushing, alone in a bathroom… awkward…

America coughed to break the silence, but it only returned as England said nothing. Finally the American built up the courage to speak.

"S-sorry England. You look good though…" pause, "really good."

The Brit seemed to pink even more at that statement, if that was even possible. He glanced down at his shoes, which were probably the only comfortable article of clothing he was wearing at the moment.

"Th-thank you… git," he paused and looked back up at the American, "We should get going then. I'm sure our ride is waiting," he offered a small awkward smile.

"Yeah... r-right."

The two gradually started walking toward the exit, but America promptly stopped. He stood there for a moment taking in the sight of the Briton. The younger man realized that as soon as they stepped out of this bathroom, he would become Mr. Burrows, and the gentleman he'd come to know so well would become Mr. Height… not England. America grimaced at that thought. The man in front of him would only be England for the next five or so steps to the door. It was then that America had a seemingly brilliant idea. He quickly made a decision, quite rash, but that was him.

Startled by the sudden contact, England looked down at his hand. His eyes widened as he realized the American was intertwining his fingers with his own. No; that was not a smile tugging at his lips. He slowly looked away from their clasped hands to the wall. This might be the hardest mission England ever took part in.

At the other end of the affectionate gesture, the American was smiling. He was ecstatic first of all that England hadn't slapped his hand away, or called him a 'twit' or some other vulgar British term. Yet, the American was also joyful over something else. He couldn't help but notice how perfectly their hands fit together. His larger, rugged hand tightly joined with the Briton's smaller, much more delicate one. He wasn't sure why, but he liked that thought; the two of them fit together. America smiled. He'd wanted to take England's hand while he was still… England, not Mr. Height. Maybe the other man thought that this action was simply to promote their covers, but America knew otherwise. He wanted to hold _England's _hand, and he wanted to do it while he was still _England_. He doubted the Briton knew this, but in his heart he hoped he did.

* * *

"I can't believe we rode in a limo!"

England mentally facepalmed. The two had only been undercover as multimillionaire businessmen for all of 30 minutes, and already America was forgetting. Imbecile. He better not have to clean up the man's mistake more than once.

"You're so silly darling!" the words were like acid on his tongue, "We ride in a limousine everyday, and even still you get excited." He smiled tenderly at the American, issuing a warning with his eyes.

Before the taller man could respond, their chauffer decided to show himself. He came around the vehicle and dropped both of the black briefcases at their feet. He eyed the two of them suspiciously for a moment, but then just shrugged and retreated to the car. America waited until he drove off before he spoke.

"Hey sorry about that… So darling huh?"

England wasted no time hitting him upside the head.

"Ouch! What the hell? Fiancés don't hit each other!"

"Yes well, we have an abusive relationship. If anyone asks, I wear the pants."

America sniggered, "Yeah, the really _tight _pants."

He stopped chuckling when he realized there where two emerald daggers being directed his way. America quickly averted his eyes away to avoid the malicious stare he was receiving. What? He'd thought it was a pretty good joke. Sky blue eyes looked back up to find that the Briton was already half way up the massive set of steps leading to the entrance of the Braginski mansion. He bounded up the stairs to meet the Brit, and upon reaching him, sent the man an apologetic grin.

"H-hey. You two checking in?"

The two blondes glanced upward, and were met by a pair of bright blue, terrified eyes. In front of the huge, engraved wooden door leading into the mansion stood a short trembling boy. He looked eternally panicked, yet he could be no older than 15.

"H-hello?"

In their distraction, neither one of the undercover agents had remembered to answer the boy. No matter, America would fix that.

"Ah, yes we are. I'm Mr. Burrows," he paused to wrap an arm around England's waist, "And this is my fiancé, Mr. Height. He's adorable isn't he?" The American proceeded to eskimo kiss the Briton.

England did his best to keep his blush inconspicuous, but seemed to fail miserably. All the while, the little boy laughed awkwardly and looked down at the clipboard he was holding.

"Alright, you guys will be in guest room nine."

The boy walked over and started to push against the door. Try as he might, the lad continued to struggle until the older blondes realized his predicament and quickly offered help. America swiftly propped open the door with absolutely no force at all.

"Th-thanks," the youngest reached into a pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pair of keys, "H-here, these unlock your room," he handed them over to the friendly American with trembling hands.

"Thanks little man!" America stopped to rustle the boy's pale blonde locks, "But uh, would you mind giving us some directions? Ya know it's not like we live here or anything," he smiled amiably at him.

At America's inquiry, the boy immediately tensed up and froze. Both spies looked at him a bit concerned. England kneeled down to be eye level with the boy, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him.

"Oi, are you ok lad?"

"PLEASE DON'T TELL MR. BRAGINSKI!"

Blue and green eyes grew wide at the exclamation.

"Please don't tell him I messed up! Please! I'll lead you to your room to make up for it, just please don't tell him!"

As quick as the words were out of his mouth, the boy was briskly walking down the hall. America and England, both still a bit unsure and confused, quickly followed, as not to lose the boy.

"_Oh yes there is most defiantly something wrong here," England thought, "What would possibly make such a young boy act that way? It's as if he's been traumatized… I'd like to meet this Mr. Braginski."_

While England was lingering in his thoughts, America was taking in his surroundings. The mansion was _huge. _It was amazing… Every inch of the wall was covered with some sort of painting, decoration, or even an antique tapestry.

"_My god, the Braginski guy is filthy rich."_

A hesitant voice broke both of them from their thoughts.

"Th-this is the main hallway. It's the only way to reach the front entrance where you two came in," the boy shivered, "Y-you know you're in the main hallway when you see the marble columns all around you."

England and America looked up, and became aware of gorgeous marble pillars that extended from the floor all the way up to the elegant, painted ceiling of the house.

Again the two were brought back to the present when the little boy spoke once more. He pointed to a rather large and beautifully carved timber door off to the left.

"That's the ballroom. It's where the gala will be held later tonight."

The three continued walking down the hallway in unrequited silence. Occasionally the boy would point out another room; the kitchen, or a garage where Zlo's owner kept a collection of cars and other vehicles for example, but for the most part, the journey was silent. Their steps echoed in the hallway and corridors until the boy again stopped in front of a wooden door, this one labeled nine.

"W-well this is your room," the boy smiled tentatively, "W-were so glad that you've chosen Zlo products! Pl-please enjoy your stay here!"

And with that the boy was off; running down the halls, presumably back to the main entrance.

"Well that was strange…" the American offered up as he quickly slid the key into the lock and turned it. He grabbed at the door handle and quickly crossed the threshold to their suite.

"Yes quite," the Briton responded distractedly as he stepped inside. The room was marvelous, England thought. A cross between Victorian and modern, and yet it somehow worked. The Briton was completely captivated by the stunning room, to busy admiring it to notice that the American had discarded his shoes in an inelegant fashion, getting dirt all over the plush, cream carpet in the process. He did however notice, when the younger man made a comment that completely ruined his moment of bliss.

"There's only one bed in here sweetheart," he said as he shot England a seductive smile.

For the second time that day, the American was smacked upside the head.

* * *

**I hope you liked it! Action is coming up soon I promise ^^**


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Rights go to the respected owners.

A/N: Yay longest chapter so far! Sorry if It seems a bit rushed! Thanks to everyone who has continued to read and review this story. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy~

* * *

Fifteen minutes later found the undercover spies gathered in the main dining hall amongst many other prospective clients of the Zlo Company. The room had effectively been divided into two parts: on the south end near the kitchen, a buffet had been laid out along with seating for those who were dining. The other half of the room had more or less become an exhibition. Different models and prototypes of Zlo products were scattered throughout the northern span of the hall for guests to sample and admire. In the center of the large display stood an interactive station with the newest model of mobile Zlo would be releasing the next day. This is where the spies now stood; England engaged in handling a prototype on display, and America for some reason, anxiously shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Do you need to use the restroom or something?" England inquired aloud.

America halted in his childish practice before responding.

"Nah, just that food over there smells _pretty _good," he angled his head toward the tabled covered in goodies for emphasis.

England rolled his eyes and went back to examining the device in his possession. The new handheld phone was gorgeous, sleek and black. A smooth touch screen occupied a considerable part of the front of the gadget. Underneath the glowing display, an advanced keyboard with glossy silver buttons would pop out upon command. The phone was also adorned with two microphones; one on the front side, just beneath the touch screen, and the second to the side of the keyboard. The Briton recalled that this modern contraption was capable of following voice commands. He presumed that the initial mic on the front would be used for issuing basic orders like calls, or look ups on the device. The second microphone, closest to the keyboard, was most likely used for speaking text messages, lest you become too lazy to type.

As vivid jade eyes appraised the futuristic device, England became aware of a consistent tapping within his margin of hearing. Though America's shifting had stopped, he had adopted the new obnoxious habit of tapping his foot. Every few seconds, in constant rhythm, the sole of the man's shoe would greet the marble floor.

"Would you bloody stop that?" the Brit snarled at the American's antics.

At this the blue-eyed man frowned. He didn't mean to be annoying, truly he didn't, he was just a bit bored, and man that food _did _smell good…

"Sorry," he admitted sheepishly, glancing up to match his counterpart's gaze. He felt a bit better when he met sympathy in those beautiful green orbs. England wasn't mad at him, no, the Briton could tell that he was bored and his minor vexations didn't really mean anything.

"Look," England spoke, "Why don't you get a bite to eat and mingle with some of the others?" He winked at the American, hoping he got the message.

"Sure thing!" the American exclaimed, relieved that both the problems of his boredom and his empty stomach would soon be fixed. Without thinking he leaned forward and captured the smaller man in an intense hug. Only moments later when realization kicked in did his heart skip a beat. He was hugging England, er Mr. Height, but whatever he was really close and wasn't showing any signs of pulling away! No, in fact England was returning the gesture with an equal amount of affection. The American's cheeks flared up as he tried to calm his racing heart. This felt so good… he felt so nice and warm and… Damn it! He was going to have to pull away soon, wasn't he? He remembered his mom telling him something about 'All good things must come to an end' but he'd promptly dismissed it and said that good things never end for heroes. So much for that… Time was running out and he'd have to pull out of the hug eventually, for he didn't want England to find him too clingy.

"_Ok breath man, breath. You can handle this! You're a hero after all!"_

Very, very slowly the American pulled out of the hug, releasing the blushing and scowling Briton. He couldn't help but thinkhow adorable he looked…

"_Well might as well go out with a bang, right?"_

Before being able to talk himself out of it, America leaned down and placed a pristine kiss on a heated English cheek. He lingered a few seconds, enjoying the feeling of his lips on England's face, but eventually pulled back to gauge how furious the Brit's reaction would be. He expected a scowl with a glare to match, but instead was met with a mixture of shock and surprise. England's eyes had grown twice as large as normal, and his face was so heated, it might burst into flames. The strangest thing though was that he didn't look angry at all, but rather America thought, he looked extremely vulnerable. The American gradually lifted a hand to the Briton's cheek and stroked it tenderly. What he saw next was equivalent to something from a fairytale, something completely magical; the emerald-eyed man smiled. It wasn't his usually cynical, cocky grin either, it was a sincere and gentle smile. It made America's heart feel light.

"Y-you're rather sweet for an idiot," this made America smile, "now go get your food."

Without hesitation America obeyed orders. He beamed down at the blushing bundle and then gave a quick wave before he turned and headed for the buffet. As he made his way over, he simply could not stop thinking about that abrupt kiss on the cheek. The American could feel his own face heat up at the memory, but he smiled nonetheless. It was strange he thought that before the kiss his stomach had been completely empty, yet now was it was full; of butterflies that is.

* * *

Yep, America's food instincts never failed him; his current meal was delicious.

"_I wonder if Iggy can cook. Maybe one day I'll ask him to do it for me."_

The young man pierced another piece of gooey lasagna with his fork and brought it to his lips. It was a shame they didn't have hamburgers here. Actually come to think of it, America noticed there was really no American food. Well whatever, their loss.

"Excuse me. Would you by chance be Mr. Burrows?"

America looked up from his plate, reminisce of cheese still hanging on his lips. He was now face to face with a brown haired man. He looked kind, and overall his appearance was calm, but America sensed that it was some sort of façade. The man's blue-green eyes were exquisite, though not so like England's, but America could see something similar to worry penetrating through them.

"Uh yep, that's me. My fiancé's around here somewhere too," he made a quick survey of the room, but could not locate England so he just shrugged.

"Ah well, that's quite alright," the man smiled holding out his hand, "My name is Toris Laurinaitis, I'm Mr. Braginski's personal secretary."

America nodded and vigorously shook the man's hand. This was great! He could infiltrate and gather information without even getting up from his seat! England would surely be impressed.

"Nice to meet cha!" he declared sending the mysterious new staff member a compelling smile. The other man mimicked a smile in return.

"Well we're so glad to have you here. Mr. Braginski would genuinely like to thank you for purchasing such a vast amount of our newest product. He would have loved to thank you in person, but unfortunately he's a very busy man, so that's where I come in."

"_Alright, commencing infiltration… NOW!"_

America gave a hearty laugh before he replied to the secretary.

"Oh that's fine! I'm a busy man as well, so I totally understand. You're his personal secretary huh? What's that like? I'm never allowed to have a secretary cuz my _partner_ thinks I'll cheat on him or something," he smiled cheekily and rolled his eyes.

Toris laughed quietly at the American's cynicism, "Ah well he must only want the best for you huh? No, but my job is… nice. I get to work with Mr. Braginski personally on many matters concerning the company. I seem to have become his right hand man."

"Ha! I guess that would make my babe my left hand man!" he pointed to his engagement ring on his left hand to accompany his terrible pun.

When the other man didn't seem to laugh or understand he thought he'd try again. He pointed to what was left of the Italian mean on his plate.

"You'll have to forgive me for my _cheesy _jokes. I'm sorry they're no _gouda."_

This time the other man did laugh. The American took note, and did a mental fist pump to celebrate his victory.

"You're very funny Mr. Burrows," the other man grinned, "Well I won't be wasting anymore of your time; I must meet with other guests."

The man got up and pushed in his chair seemingly ready to leave before he spoke once more.

"Oh! One last thing! Mr. Braginski will be at the gala later tonight, so perhaps he can properly thank you there. Nice meeting you!" A polite wave adjoined the man's parting, as he turned and walked off.

"_Wow that dude was nice. I wonder if Mr. Braginski's as cool as his secretary. Nah, he's probably some super rich, snobby guy!" _

As America giggled at his self amusing thought, a hand tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up and smiled at bright green eyes, and disheveled blonde hair.

"I'm done looking around here. Did you talk to anyone?"

"Yeah! I totally met Mr. Branginski's secretary. He was really polite and crap! Do ya think Braginski's like that too?"

England's eye twitched for a moment at America's complete stupidity. Didn't the man know better than to not speak of others out loud? Forget the fact that this was a mission and they were to be secretive, wasn't that just common courtesy? He better shut him up before he spill something important.

The Briton held a finger up to the American's lips, motioning him to keep quiet.

"You talk much too much dear," he said.

The blue-eyed man rolled his eyes, but England could swear he saw a blush rising to those baby-soft cheeks. A delicate, and petite hand met with one of America's before the Brit spoke again.

"I'm done here, so whenever you finish your pasta we can head back to our room to prepare for this evening," he stressed his point by tapping the younger gently on the nose.

"_Did I do that for good measure? Or do I just like the feeling of his skin- No it was definitely just to get my point across!"_

America blinked as the amazingly soft, yet powerful finger left the bridge of his nose. Honestly, sometimes England's actions were just utterly adorable. He squeezed the hand that had miraculously found its way into his own as he spoke.

"We can go!" he said as he rose from his seat, leaving what was left of his interrupted meal behind. "Back to our suite for two," he smiled at his partner.

England merely grinned awkwardly and turned away. Weird thing about him; for such a firm guy, he was really just a pansy on the inside.

"_Note to self: Get Iggy to smile more, it's kinda cute."_

As America made this mental note, the pair exited the dining commons and headed for their room. The younger spy looked at his digital watch/gadget, and realized that there was not that much time left before the gala would take place. We're they running out of time already? He hardly had information on the company, and he had nothing to prove that something was wrong here.

America glanced down to the pair's coupled hands, and his line of sight followed a strong but gentle arm up to a British man's face. The younger spy found that England did not look even remotely nervous. His face looked serious and determined, but America could see the happiness that flowed freely through his exquisite facial features. That face gave him hope, as well as the desire to keep going in this all-but-ordinary mission. He realized that as long as he was with England, everything would be okay.

* * *

"America are you almost ready?"

A sense of déjà vu ran through England as he spoke those words. This scene was so familiar, like that in the airport; the only difference here was the younger blonde was the one locked in the bathroom.

"Yeah, almost done! I just can't figure out how to tie this tie."

"Well do come out, and I'll help you."

Slowly the handle to the bathroom door turned, and England stared dumbfounded at the American in front of him. If he thought the boy looked swell in casual attire, he looked a hundred times better in a formal wear. America wore a navy blue suit, with a crisp white dress shirt. The tie that adorned his neck was not tied correctly, but already England could see that it matched the shade of his vibrant, blue eyes. By now the Briton had figured out that the younger was naturally handsome, but this outfit brought him sophistication and elegance. It also seemed to draw a significant amount of attraction from a certain Brit.

"Oh come on Iggy, I don't look _that _bad."

The older man immediately frowned as hints of red dusted his cheeks. Had he been staring? How rude and embarrassing… It wasn't his fault though! Damn those vivid blue eyes, and that golden blonde hair, and that irresistible smile-

"Awww you're blushing! I understand though. I would check myself out too, considering I look this awesome," he winked and struck a pose for the Briton. The later scowled, but to his dismay, his cheeks flushed deeper.

"Sh-shut up idiot! I was just looking at the absurd way you've fixed your tie. Did no one teach you how to properly knot one?"

America innocently looked at his coworker, and England was left with an awkward sensation of guilt. Had no one actually taught him how to tie a tie? Poor thing.

"H-Here I'll get it for you."

The Brit calmly strolled over to the American and undid the current, bizarre knot that had been formed. With grace and precision, England redid the knot and tightened it against the American's neck. He looked up to find that inquisitive eyes were studying him. America's sapphires were bright and aware, looking as if he were trying to find a way to explain something.

"Thank you… You look nice England," the American admitted in something akin to a whisper. His voice was shaky, but his confession was sincere. He really did think England looked incredible; midnight black suite, pale green dress shirt with a lively emerald tie to match. "You- you look really amazing like that. I guess it _suites _you," he said with a smile.

England was left to mimic the others grin. His glee seemed to be contagious, but the Briton rather liked that about him. He was still blushing as he thanked the American, took his hand and led him to the door.

"Are you ready?" the Briton prompted before he opened the door.

"I was born ready!" the American explained. And while he _was _ready for the mission, he was not prepared to face the conflicting feelings in his heart.

* * *

The main ballroom was _huge_. It looked to be about the size of a football field, if not bigger. Beautiful glass chandeliers hung from the ceiling, illuminating the space with soft yellow light. There was a stage in the front of the room where a brunette man sat, playing the piano with ease. In the middle of the stage there was also a microphone, awaiting someone who wished to speak.

All around the blondes, people stood and chatted, making intelligent or awkward conversation. They were all dressed in an extremely classy fashion; men in designer suits, and women in expensive, but absolutely stunning gowns. America was suddenly grateful that Canada had been smart enough to pack them two separate outfits; the spies would have stuck out like sore thumbs in their previous casual attire.

"There certainly are quite a lot of people here," England piped up quietly.

America glanced down at his partner and nodded. Indeed there were a ton of people here. He felt a bit confined, and he also got the sensation of being watched.

"We'll be okay," the American assured him as he squeezed his hand, "Let's see who else is here."

The golden blonde tugged his older counterpart through the crowd looking for someone who might have some information on the company. Who should he talk to? All of these people looked snobby, and several of them gave him a disapproving glare, seeing that he was holding hands with another man. Well you know what? Screw them. He liked holding hands with England, and would have done it regardless of whether it was necessary. Their snooty attitudes could kiss his-

"Where are we going?" England questioned.

Umm… well that was a good question wasn't it? There were plenty of people he'd decided _not _to talk to, but he'd never actually picked a specific person to converse with. America scouted the room and his gaze fell on a beautiful young woman who was standing alone in a corner of the room. She had silky platinum-blonde hair that ran past her shoulders, and she was wearing a stunning, strapless black gown. It fit her perfectly, flaunting all her best features. What had initially caught America's attention though was not her beauty, but rather the fact that she sported a golden name tag with the Zlo logo.

"Over there!" America pointed, "I think that girl works for the company."

Before England was able to reprimand him for pointing, the American had again started to drag him through the sea of people until they reached the young beauty.

"Hey there!" America greeted ingenuously.

As soon as the woman turned around, he immediately regretted his childish greeting. The girl had icy blue eyes that looked like they were about ready to pierce right through his heart and soul. Damn, this chick didn't take any crap…

"Can I help you?" she hissed, as she shot the two of them a degrading look.

"Oh we just felt the need to introduce ourselves," England stated matter-of-factly. The Briton was really good at rebounding back after America's screw ups, and the younger man admired him for that.

"I'm Mr. Height, and this is my fiancé Mr. Burrows."

He held out his hand and when the woman took it, instead of shaking it like America supposed he would do, he leaned downed and kissed it lightly. No, that was not jealously that flared up inside the American. When it was his turn to greet her he had planned to copy England, but he found himself unable to do so and simply shook her hand instead.

"You'll have to forgive him," the Brit asserted, "His manners are below par."

"Hey! It's not my fault that I'd way rather kiss you than her!"

Oh crap… or 'bloody hell' as England would say. That totally wasn't supposed to come out. Well uh, even though England's eyes were as wide as dinner plates, at least the girl would just think its part of their character.

"Uh right," she murmured rather indifferently, "Brother told me there were two gay guys purchasing our products. I should have known he didn't mean happy."

America simply answered with an uncomfortable laugh, considering the fact that his mind was not functioning properly at the moment and England was still rendered speechless. He was trying to his best to think up an intellectual response, when a seemingly familiar voice boomed through the speakers. The three turned to face the stage.

"Welcome everyone!" chirped the calm and composed voice of Toris Laurinaitis. "We'd like to thank you all for joining us tonight in celebration of the release of our newest product. I'd like to recognize all of you as cherished friends and customers to us here at Zlo, so thank you all very much! Hopefully if all goes well, Mr. Braginski will be able to come and thank you all personally," the boy stopped to take in several mouthfuls of air. "Anyway this is a ball so we should have the dancing commence, no? I hope you all enjoy the party!"

Toris walked over to the side of stage and flipped a switch that did two things: First, it dimmed the lights to the point where the spies could no longer see much more than silhouettes of the others around them. Second, graceful slow music had been applied and was now flowing freely through the room and ears of the patrons.

America turned his attention back from the stage, to his friend and the beautiful yet terrifying woman. He was shocked though, to find that she was gone.

"Uh- sweetheart? Where'd that chick go?"

England instantly turned to his addressor and then glanced around the room for the intimidating young lady. His gaze traced every bit of the area around them, but the woman had vanished into thin air.

"I have no idea…" England pondered as he continued to search, but was only met with the view of many happy couples slow dancing to the newly added music. It gave him a bit of an awkward sensation, and reminded him of what America had said before they'd been interrupted by the man on stage.

"_Did he mean what he said, or was it simply to stress our cover to the Zlo worker?"_

He inhaled deeply, wishing it was the first option but knowing that it was unlikely. The Briton turned his attention back to the American and found that the other man was flushed and smiling rather awkwardly.

"So uh Iggy… May I have this dance?"

"Ca- can you wha-"

He was unable to finish his sentence as beautifully tanned, muscular arms wrapped around his delicate frame. Like it were instinct, the Brit immediately complied by wrapping his own arms around America's broad shoulders. It was a little embarrassing, he didn't understand why _he_ had to be the girl, but even so he felt joy and comfort in the American's arms.

Little by little the couple started to sway and harmonize their movements with the music. At some point, England had resigned to resting his head on the American's shoulder (not because he wanted to or anything! Just… because he found himself quite tired all of a sudden). They rocked slowly to the music in quiet bliss for awhile, both men enjoying the proximity and warmth of each other. The moment was nice, but the younger man felt that something was still a bit off, they were still acting…

America leaned down a bit to whisper something to England, and the Briton tried to ignore the fact that the man's breath tickled his ear and sent shocks of pleasure right through him.

"You know… I …I really like you…" he attempted to say in as much nonchalance as he could muster.

England looked up at him, cheeks burning, and again wide-eyed. How many times had this blushing thing happened with America now? His emerald eyes bore into him trying to seek out the truth. Was America talking to England, or was Mr. Burrows talking to Mr. Height? He was about to question this when America seemed to read his mind.

"I'm talking about _you_, Iggy," he said as England noticed the look of pure sincerity in his baby blue eyes, "And- and it's coming from _me."_

At this even the American blushed, but England found it to be quite endearing.

"G-git… I rather fancy you too…" he said as he tried to suppress even more blood from reaching his cheeks.

America smiled and lifted a hand from the Briton's waist, instead opting to lovingly stroke his cheek.

"Wow that was easier than I thought," he said slyly, tenderly stroking the man's heated face. England scowled, but it soon turned into a smile at his obvious contentment.

"So… does this mean you'll tell me your name now?" the American smiled feigning innocence.

"Only in your dreams love," England said while eskimo kissing his partner with newfound affection.

"Ah well. It was worth a shot," he said as he continued to caress the Englishman's cheek. They remained quiet for awhile, both taking in this new information, before America decided to speak once more.

"Uhmm... about earlier… about kissing yo-"

"You weren't joking," England supplied.

"N-no... I wasn't," America mumbled sheepishly.

"Well then what are you waiting for?" the Briton quietly prompted, as he shyly tore his gaze from the American, to the much more interesting floor. He stared momentarily at the ground until a calloused hand reached up and cupped his face.

"I guess I'm waiting for you to look at me," he smiled and chuckled quietly.

The two stood there, blushing and staring at each other awkwardly before suddenly something clicked in the younger man. They liked each other! It was ok to kiss, right? Well America wasn't sure about England, but this was his mindset and he'd be damned if he missed this opportunity. With graceful, forgotten music playing behind him and luscious British lips in front of him, the American could think of only one thing to do; he leaned in and hoped for the best.

* * *

**Author's note: Ohohohohoho Cliffhanger! xD Haha! Anyway I hope you guys enjoyed this latest addition to the story! Will America be successful in his affairs? Who knows :3**

**P.s. Forgive me/ America for my/ his terrible puns! xD Gotta love him though.**


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rights go to the respected owners. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.

* * *

Time suddenly stopped for the American. He leaned in and made sure to keep his eyes open just enough to see the Brit's reaction. His pulse quickened as he realized England was leaning in as well. He looked so beautiful to the American; half-lidded emerald eyes glistening in the light of the chandeliers, pink and delicious lips quivering nervously, yet still calling out to the younger man. The Brit looked stunning, but he was still stricken with a shadow of doubt; America intended to fix that. He closed in slowly, gauging himself.

"_Almost there Alfred, almost there," he coached._

Their lips ghosted together when…

"ATTENTION! The moment you have all been waiting for has arrived! Mr. Braginski is present and would like to say a few words," the silver blonde woman from earlier was now standing on the stage.

England pulled back immediately, and America had to tighten his grip on the man's waist to ensure that he didn't get too far. The Brit's generally pastel and rosy cheeks were glowing now, spewing energy and heat. If America had thought England was flushed when they made their little confessions, it was about 100x worse now. He looked down at the Briton and was disappointed to find that the distraught man had cut off all eye contact with him. America had lost the connection with those intense green orbs, and he'd lost the moment as well.

"Dammit," America hissed under his breath, furrowing his brows together and subconsciously pulling England closer to him, "Someone's gonna pay for this…"

"Ah and here he is now!" the woman on stage continued, unaware of what she'd ruined, "Everyone I'd like to introduce my amazing big brother, and President of the Zlo Company, Ivan Braginski!"

Both spies instantly looked up and were met with a new and unknown figure. The man was tall, rivaling the American agent's height, and he shadowed his sister in comparison. He wore a pinstripe blue suit as well as designer shoes, similar to what any corporate boss would wear. Yet something was off. In addition to his regular business attire, the man also adorned a lavender scarf around his neck. Why you would wear an accessory like that to an occasion like this was anyone's guess.

The spies continued assessing the man, noting that his hair was similar to his sister's, a platinum blonde of sorts, and his skin was extremely pale. His outside casing was white, unlike that of a dove, but more so like a cold and deadly frost. It sent a chill through the smaller the spy, and again America found himself clutching the man closer, providing protection.

While the new man already gave off the impression of a wicked character, one defining feature was a step above the rest. The man's eyes were icy and hostile, different from anything either spy had ever seen. His vision did not come from lush and vivacious orbs like England's did. Nor did it come from the endless blue sky like America's. Instead his ability to see came from demon like crystals in the center of the man's face. The way his eyes shone in the light gave off a look of importance, but also a dreadfully intimidating warning sign; _do not mess with me._

The younger woman, who had previously been forgotten, stepped toward Ivan to greet him. She handed him the microphone and leaned in for a kiss, but the Russian man did not indulge her. He gave her a nice pat on the cheek, and after being glared at, sent her on her way. When the woman had left the stage Braginski turned his ice cold gaze back to the sea of people crowded in the ballroom.

"I'm so glad you all could make it tonight. Today is a day of true importance. Today we celebrate all we have accomplished, and the fruitful future to come! Zlo is at the height of its inventive career and tomorrow the world will witness the mere beginning of what our company has to offer. Tomorrow the world will change for the better," he paused to flash a creepy smile, "Tomorrow will be a day that goes down in history," the man seemed to pause for dramatic effect.

"Moving on, I'd like to thank each and every one of you for helping to support the company. Remember, this could never take place without your help. Thanks to you; _the world will turn as one."_

A few people in the crowd started to cheer, receiving a broad grin from the Russian man as he continued.

"Thank you, thank you, but remember it is _you all_ who are assisting us in accomplishing all of this, so rather, _thank you,"_ he halted his speech briefly to clap a bit for the audience, apparently thanking them for all of they've done.

"Anyway thank you all once again, but I must be leaving now to prepare for the ceremony. I'd like to ensure that you all make it there tomorrow morning as well, so unfortunately I'll have to cut the gala a bit short," he feigned a frown, "Yet please do enjoy a final half hour of merriment, my treat. Thank you."

As quickly as the man had appeared, he was gone; ushered off stage, and away to mysterious depths of the mansion. America thought it was a bit strange that the company president was shortening the length of the gala, but that was the least of his concerns right now. He had more important things to worry about.

"Hey." The American tried, getting the British man to look back at him. He smiled at the fact he had even gotten a reaction out of the Briton, "Where were we?"

America leaned in again but this time England instantly pulled back. The Briton stayed locked in the American's arms, but instead opted to rest his head on the blue-eyed man's shoulder. They continued to sway back and forth to the music, but the Brit refused to meet the other's gaze. As a result, England missed the look of sheer hurt and sorrow that took over America's face.

"_Dammit no! Why… What happened?... Things were going so well…"_

The couple danced together the rest of the night, but never once did America get the chance to fulfill his desire of tasting British lips.

* * *

Awkward silence continued to observe the two as they reentered their guestroom. Doubt was now present in America's mind, and his heart had fallen into a pit deep within him. He looked at England sadly, questioning himself over his feelings. Were the confessions of love just a dream? Was the almost-kiss a figment of his imagination? He sighed as he sat down on the bed to wallow in self pity. Maybe England was just messing with him, maybe it was never meant to be…

"We're running out of time you know," America glanced over to see England taking a seat beside him.

"Uh yeah… I know…"

America didn't want to be reminded. Along with all his other problems, the new phone would be released tomorrow and the two of them were yet to find out anything at all.

The younger man sighed again and rubbed his temples. Man did he want to take that Russian man down! He wasn't even acquainted with the other man, but already he hated him. He'd ruined everything! EVERYTHING! If he'd just kept his damn mouth shut, then America would know the feeling of England's lips against his own. He'd know the taste of those juicy pink chops calling out to him. If he'd stayed quiet, America would know the feeling of being lov-

"So that's why I'm going out to investigate."

America's head swung to face the Briton faster than humanly possible. He almost cracked his neck in the process.

"You're doing whaaaa? You can't go out on your own!"

"I _can_ and I _will_ America. It's necessary if we intend to get anything out of this mission."

America looked at him with disbelieving eyes. Yes they were spies and this was part of their job, but the younger had this _really _bad feeling in his gut.

"Fine. Then I'm coming with you."

England glared at him a moment but quickly his expression softened. His previously stern features turned into something lighter, a look of genuine concern. He put a hand on America's shoulder and locked gazes with him.

"No America… You can't. I need an alibi in case someone finds me in the hallway. It wouldn't make any sense if the two of us were together, haphazardly roaming the halls. People would get suspicious; they'd start to question our validity. You must stay here for the safety of us both. It's for the best America."

"Oh come on! We could come up with an excuse for being out of our room together. Maybe we were outside stargazing, and we were just about to return to our room!"

England looked at him hopelessly.

"It could work! They think we're lovers anyway, so they'd probably just assume we were fooling around outside or something!"

England smiled lightly as a pink hue settled on his cheeks.

"Look America, I know you're eager for adventure, but honestly I assure yo-"

"I'm not eager for adventure, I just want to protect you!"

America's cheeks grew heated from anger and embarrassment. Why couldn't England just see that this scenario was unsafe? Something was bound to happen to a small, delicate man in a large and daunting building.

"America, I appreciate your thoughtfulness but trust me, I'll be fine. I've been doing this longer than you, you know," he smiled gently as he squeezed the American's shoulder, "Besides, my alibi would make no sense if you were with me."

"What's your alibi?"

"Well, my lover was taking much too long jerking himself off in the loo, so I've left in search of another one," the Brit smirked at the American.

"You!" America chided as he playfully pushed England down onto the bed. He climbed on top of him and started to tickle the older man, feeling his heart warm as the Briton giggled.

"Hehehe! Ameri- HEHEHE! St-stop!" he squealed.

The younger man obliged to the Brit's request, but held him tightly as he fell into a laughing fit. Slowly he calmed, and realized that he was laying on top of England, clutching onto him for dear life. How had a man he'd met less than a month ago become so important to him? It was strange America thought, how love works…

"England… just promise me you'll be safe," he halfheartedly demanded from the other man. The younger looked at him with imploring eyes.

"No worries America. I promise that I'll look after myself," he smiled up at the blue-eyed man as he took his hand. Soothingly, he ran his fingers over the American's own, pausing at the ring, "Besides, if something were to happen, the hero would come to my rescue, would he not?"

"Of course!" America gladly supplied as he squeezed the other man's hand, "J-just stay safe alright? Y-you mean a lot to me England."

The Brit smiled and unexpectedly leaned up to plant a small kiss on the American's cheek.

"Git… I... I..." damn, he couldn't finish that sentence, "You mean a lot to me too."

* * *

About two hours after the party had come to a close, England left his sanctuary with America in search of information. He was careful to avoid others, yet if someone questioned him, he indeed intended to use the excuse that his fiancé was hogging the toilet in the room.

He walked quietly through the corridors of the mansion, careful not to attract attention to himself. The hallways were dark and eerie with only slight sprinkles of moonlight illuminating the passages. The Briton strolled slowly, glancing at his surroundings and looking for anything that could possibly be a camera, or some sort of motion detector. He was surprised to find that the building was remarkably unprotected; the Brit was yet to find any type of security that was typical in the cliché villain lair.

England turned a corner and found himself wondering down a passageway decked with a string of beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows. He walked the length of the passage and was stunned to find that the corridor led to a dead end.

"_How could that be?" England pondered, "What kind of architect would design a stunning hallway such as this, which leads to nowhere? Shouldn't there be an executive office, or possibly a sunroom down here?"_

He reviewed these questions in his mind as he strolled back down the hall. England walked closer to the windows on the left side of the corridor, where he could see a bit better thanks to the moonlight streaming in. As England passed the third window on his return trip, the man thought he heard something. He paused in front of the screen to see if he could maybe catch a glimpse of whatever had made the sound. As he waited and watched, the Brit could swear he heard murmuring. How could that be? Was someone outside?

England immediately slid to the ground to avoid being seen. He sat there for a moment, waiting for whoever was outside to pass and the muttering to stop, but it never did. When ten minutes had passed England realized that someone must be having a conversation outdoors. Carefully he lifted himself up and took a look around, but he could spot nothing but trees and the occasional woodland creature. Annoyed, England looked for another source of the noise but as he walked farther and farther away from the third window in the corridor, he found that the mumbling died down.

"_How strange. The sound seems to be strongest near the end of the hallway."_

He walked back to the window he had originally stood in front of and once more looked around for the source of the noise. Again he found nothing and this aggravated him. He started to look a bit more closely at the window panel along with the frame, and upon closer inspection he noticed something slightly jutting out of. The discrepancy in the wall was rounded and metal, yet the strange item was subtly camouflaged into its surroundings. England leaned closer to the object scrutinizing over it until he realized what it was. This strange out of place bump in the wall was a handle, a doorknob granting entry to something.

"_Oh my god…"_

The Briton quickly put the pieces together realizing that what he thought to be a window was just a disguise to conceal a secret passage. There must be a room just beyond here! Suddenly everything made sense; the murmuring being loudest outside this window must be because someone was inside. He rummaged through the pocket of his trousers and pulled out the iPod that France had given him back at headquarters. England tried to recall exactly what the man had said.

"_An iPod. Newest generation and fully functional, but also much more useful than the average one. Insert the headphones and this becomes a useful listening device."_

The Briton followed suit, plugging in the headphones and putting them in his ears. He set the mp3 player to its useful eavesdropping function and held it against the door. For a few seconds he heard static and he wondered if the contraption the Frenchman gave him even worked. He waited a moment longer until he heard something come through.

"…Tomorrow… ...Ivan will be… ... the plan has been carried out success-… ...Brother should be pleased."

England furrowed his brows in confusion. What plan? And did he hear that voice say brother? Comprehension struck him. He'd thought that voice sounded familiar, and putting two and two together he realized it must be the young woman from earlier who referred to Mr. Braginski as her brother. The Briton nodded in understanding, and continued to listen.

"…Noon tomorrow… ...phones will be given to important business leaders… ...Ivan will do the honors… ...bombs in the phones… ..explode simultan-… ...Ivan will have control…"

England almost choked on his breath when he heard that last part. These new mobiles that Zlo had given away to powerful business leaders were bombs? The man planned to detonate them all at noon tomorrow during the ceremony? England struggled to breath.

"…Where is Iv-… ...said he would be here…"

The Briton had heard enough. He returned the iPod to his pocket realizing he had to report back to America and headquarters as fast as possible. Ivan Braginski needed to be stopped.

England rapidly stood up and turned around, only to have his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. It was ridiculously dark in the hallway, but thanks to the soft glow from the moonlight the Briton was able to make out the silhouette of a man standing directly in front of him. The strange figure was tall and seemed to be holding some sort of metal pipe. England swallowed down some spit that had accumulated in his throat knowing this would not end well.

"It's not nice for guests to be sneaking around the host's home, da?" the man laughed manically and took another step toward the Brit.

England could remember only two things after that:

The man had been wearing a scarf.

The Briton had pressed down on his diamond ring as hard as possible.

And then everything went dark.

* * *

**TWO cliffhangers in a row? Please don't hate me... *dodges burnt scones* Anyway I hope you guys liked it and are ready for the action to start! Just incase this is my last update before the holidays (hopefully not but we'll see...) I hope you all have a great one :) Thanks for reading, and if you get a chance PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE review!**

**_~Iggycat_  
**


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rights go to the respected owners. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.

A/N: Sorry it took so long Dx I hope you all had a great holiday! Enjoy~

* * *

America hated the rain. Ever since he was a child he'd hated the demonic form of precipitation that would pour down outside and mock him. The water ridiculed the fact that he was missing out on something fun, like playing outside, or watching the stars. He sat alone in his lonely room, watching the droplets slide down the windowpane, deep in thought.

Everything denoted with the word 'bad' seemed to accompany the rain. Battles from infamous wars took place in the rain. Hearts were broken in the rain. Loneliness met no resistance in the rain. Perhaps this was why America hated the rain so much. Maybe it wasn't the water itself, but rather all the awful things it would bring with it on its way to earth. Or maybe it was the fact the American was completely helpless to stop it. No amount of weaponry or tactic could halt the rain; it was unstoppable.

America rose from the seat he'd taken by the window and regretfully chanced a glance at his watch. He grimaced at what he saw.

"_It's only been two hours since he left...That's not that long. Plus England is a professional spy! I'm sure he's totally fi-"_

Irony was a bitch. As if on cue, America's engagement ring flared up with heat. The young man looked down at his finger wide-eyed, hoping that maybe, just maybe it was a mistake, or his mind playing tricks on him. When the pain failed to yield, America knew this was no slip-up. He bolted from the window, securing his pistol and grabbing everything France had given him back in London.

"Showtime."

* * *

The first thing England became aware of as his eyes fluttered open was the pain. His head had started to throb, and he quickly recalled the blow to his skull earlier. The spy tried to reach up to sooth the god awful pain, but suddenly shrieked in agony. Not only were the Brit's hands tightly bound together behind him, but one of them was definitely broken. The man who captured him must have shattered his hand either for good measure, or to ensure he didn't escape.

The second thing the Briton noticed was the cold. He hadn't realized while unconscious, but he could tell now it must be around -7°C (20°F). England shivered, now taking in the fact that he was insufficiently clothed for the temperature. He still wore a dress shirt and jacket, but that was not about to help him in this arctic environment.

The third thing England became aware of-

"Ah good, you're up."

Trough a tiny window at the front of the room, a face peered in at him. The look he received was despicable, as if he were an animal to be observed; yet England couldn't help but feel the face was familiar. It had round features, a prominent large nose, and daunting violet eyes. Where had he seen that before?

"You weren't unconscious all that long."

The body the voice belonged to now appeared in the doorway to Arthur's frosty confinement. It was then that the facts hit England: tall, lavender scarf, violet eyes.

"Braginski…"

"You know my name, da? Well it doesn't surprise me. Whoever sent you must know more about me than they should."

Just then Arthur could hear footsteps not far off. The Russian man must have heard them as well, for he turned on his heal to face the direction of the sound.

"Toris!" he screeched down the hall.

Within seconds a young brunette appeared by his side looking a bit concerned, but saluted nonetheless.

"Yes Mr. Braginski?"

"Hold the door open while I ask our guest here a few questions."

"Certainly sir…"

Ivan crept closer until he was towering over the Brit's fragile, damaged body. He looked down at England with a degrading glare before deciding to kick him keenly in the stomach. The Briton yelped as the Russian began his interrogation.

"Who sent you?"

England looked up and smirked despite the pain.

"My mum," he replied dryly.

Braginski clearly did not find this as funny as England did, and kneed him in the gut once again.

"How much do you know, you bloody Brit?"

"Enough."

"You're a stubborn little one aren't you?" the man inquired with a sly grin as he leaned down to be at eyelevel with his captive.

England emitted no response.

"That's alright. Maybe your comrade will be a bit more helpful, da?"

England's eyes doubled, and then tripled in size before he managed to choke out a response.

"What did you do with him?"

Ivan started to laugh manically before he put a supposedly calming hand on the Brit's shoulder.

"Relax, Relax. We're yet to harm him. He possesses some valuable information, and we'll be needing that of course," Ivan paused to give England's shoulder a small squeeze, "But to get him, we'll need bait, and I must say, you make the perfect lure my friend."

"Leave him alone! I won't tell you anything and neither will he!"

The Russian man smiled as he moved his hand up to caress the spy's cheek. He rubbed it thoughtfully for a moment before pausing and delivering a fierce blow. England cried out, as moisture accumulated in his eyes.

"We'll see about that when your boyfriend is in danger."

The taller man stood up and grinned.

"Enjoy your stay," he mocked before strolling out the door.

England glanced up one last time and managed to catch a glimpse of the tail ends of a purple scarf; the garment that belonged to a devilish man he'd just had the misfortune of meeting. England refused to admit he was scared. He refused to admit that he was worried for not only himself, but for America and for the wellbeing of the public as well. He was afraid of what Braginski would do the American, lest he get a hold of him, and he knew Ivan was planning to wipe out hundreds of innocent people at the ceremony later today. England refused to admit many things to his wary self, and defeat was no exception.

Slowly the Briton shifted his gaze from where the evil chap had been, back to where the young man with long brown locks still stood propping up the door. England found a pair of tired, yet concerned green eyes staring guiltily at him.

"_I'm so sorry," _the boy mouthed, before quickly moving to follow his superior.

Arthur sighed as he watched the kind man go. The aches and chill had returned, now nearly freezing the blood in his veins. He was tired and worried and tried to ignore the fact that his mind kept returning to thoughts of one young, blue-eyed man.

"I'm so sorry America… I can't believe I'm saying this but… I should have listened to you…"

England continued to murmur to himself until the task of keeping his eyes open became too much effort. Slowly the emeralds slid shut, and unconsciousness washed away the pain and the cold.

* * *

"Alright so if I click this button, the screen should show where Iggy is, right?" America seemed to enjoy talking to himself.

"_Well it's either that or the smoke bomb. Ha…"_

Carefully America pressed down on one of the bigger buttons and held his breath as the screen changed. After a moment of anticipation the panel displayed what looked like a crude layout of the building as well as two blinking dots.

"Yes! Who's your hero?" the young man smirked.

America pulled his wrist up closer to his face to get a better look at the digital watch. The blue dot, which showed his location, was in what seemed to be the right wing of the building. Adversely, England seemed to be in the lower left, toward the back. While he wasn't remote, it would still take America some time to navigate there.

"Cool. Well he doesn't seem to be that far off."

Slowly the American began his search for the Brit. He crept around the mansion, following his digital map through the maze-like structure. At one point America must have made a wrong turn because he found himself in a dead-end hallway covered in wall-length windows. For some reason he could sense an eerie aura coming from the corridor and quickly retreated the way he came.

Continuing toward the red dot, America could feel himself going deeper and deeper into the haunted house. Would anyone know he was here? Would anyone be able to hear him scream from this far into the mansion? He immediately quelled these thoughts when he realized that he'd neared his destination. According to his watch, England should be just around the corner. This was it! England would be here, and he was here to save the day! Yet he kept in mind he had to prepare for danger. It was likely that England would be guarded by some type of security force. America took hold of his pistol, sucked in a breath and swiftly turned the corner ready for action.

Nothing.

Nothing? But how could that be? England should have been here, but instead there was just a door. In front of the young American stood a steel door, with a keycard lock, rather than the man he'd expected to see.

"Dammit!"

Where had he gone wrong? This was where England was supposed to be, and yet he somehow wasn't. Was something wrong with the watch? Had it led him to the wrong place? He would kill France (right after Iggy killed him for picking out those skinny jeans of course) when he got back… If he got back…

"Looking for this?"

America was very quickly brought back from his thoughts when he became aware of the presence of company. He spun around to find a boy, slightly younger than himself staring back. The newcomer held England's iPod in one hand, and a gun in the other.

"Where did you get that?" America demanded to know. Had England dropped it? Or did he steal it off of him? Dear god, England better be alright.

"Hmm? This?" the boy asked as he motioned to the mp3 player, "Well it was given to me. But I presume it was pried from the cold, dead hands of-"

America didn't bother listening to the rest of what the man had to say; he didn't want to hear it. The American leaped forward, effectively tackling the younger man to the ground. The latter dropped his gun as the wind was knocked out of him, and as he was subjected to the weight of the American crushing his body. He gasped for breath and looked up to find blue eyes filled with hatred. America wasted no time in putting the stranger into a headlock and holding his loaded pistol to the man's skull.

"WHERE DID YOU GET THIS?" he screamed in despair.

"I- Ivan gave it to me," the younger choked out, "B-but s-stop. I w-want t-to help you."

"I WANT TO HELP YOU, MY ASS!" America yelled furiously as he kneed the man in the groin.

The younger man yelped, but continued with his pleading.

"Y-your friend! He has blonde hair and th-think eyebrows. I- I know where he is!"

America froze. He looked at the man underneath him who seemed to be begging forgiveness with his eyes. The spy loosened his grip, but refused to relent completely. Below him the younger man let out a fit of coughs, followed by a string of deep breaths as he greedily sucked in mouthfuls of air before America had the opportunity to put him in a chokehold again.

"M-My name is Eduard. I'm Braginski's technological director, and I want to help. I know who you are; both of you. I understand you're here to take him out- I can give you assistance."

"And why should I trust you?" America hissed out.

"P-please. I assure you I can help. J-just can you take out that camera before I continue?" the younger man motioned to the device in the corner, "You never know when he's watching."

The Texan was suspicious; after all, why shouldn't he be? This man who just earlier was threatening to kill him was now offering help. The American wouldn't deny that something was off, but right now he needed assistance, and this man was willing to supply it. England was in trouble, and the stranger had become America's last hope.

"Alright…"

Reluctantly, America leaned back and took aim at the camera. He pulled then released the trigger and the security device shattered into a million different pieces.

"Are you crazy? You weren't supposed to take it out with a gun! The whole building must have heard that. They're probably sending security down here as we speak!" the younger man howled.

"Well then, we don't have much time."

* * *

The crack of a gunshot rang through England's ears as it brought him back from dreamland. He frightfully glanced around the room, but came to find that he was still alone. No one was here and shooting at him, so the shots must be coming from outside.

Outside.

Oh my god.

"AMERICA!"

England started to scream and squirm as if this would somehow help out his partner. He continued to move around and tried his best ignore the feeling of tears freezing midway down his cheek.

"You better not be dead you bloody idiot… I'm your superior and I didn't give you permission to die!" he shrieked out.

Arthur continued to scream, cry, and pray, but all went unheard from the walls of his frozen prison.

* * *

America ran through the halls of the mansion like his life depended on it; (which in a sense it did) he had no idea of knowing if guards were chasing him, but he had to move fast. Surprisingly, Eduard von Bock had actually been extremely helpful. He'd given America a keycard to open the door, as well as precise directions as to where England was being held. There seemed to be a form of resistance in the Zlo Company. Eduard, along with his friends Toris and Raivis, detested Ivan, but we're in no place to stop him. They were defenseless against the older man, and were forced to abide by his rules and commands. When Eduard had heard there was a spy lurking in the building, he'd volunteered to 'take him out' knowing that maybe, he could in some way assist the agent in taking out Braginski.

America continued to run until he came up on the last corner and quickly turned. There he found yet another metal door, but to the left of the entrance was a tiny window. The American rushed to the window and readily peered inside, fearing the worst. To his astonishment, England looked to be alive and well. He wasn't in the best shape of course, America noticed a few bruises around his face, but he also wasn't sitting in a pool of blood, so that was a plus.

Quickly America moved from the window to the door and was surprised to find there was no lock or necessary key.

"No lock? Weird."

Mustering up enough force, America pulled the door open and squealed as his eyes met with England's. America was brimming with happiness, and for a moment England seemed to sparkle as well. However, a few seconds is all it took for Arthur's eyes to falter and fail to mirror the American's joy. Instead the emeralds stared past him, as if mesmerized by something much more bloodcurdling and powerful.

"England, what's wron-"

Suddenly pain went flying up America's spine. A kick had come from the back, knocking him to the ground. His face met with the tiled floor, as his glasses flew off his face and across the room.

"That's a great observation comrade. There is no lock on the outside of the door, and that is because this door locks automatically locks from the inside. Anyone may get in, but no one may come out."

America tried to look up at his addressor but his attempt was immediately finished when a cold boot came crashing down hard onto his cheek. While America's attempt to visualize his captor had been in vain, he knew who the man above him was regardless; Braginski.

The American tried to squirm out of his hold, but was only rewarded with a swift kick to his ribs. He screeched but was determined to get out. He managed to push the boot off of his face, but just when he thought he might get free, he felt his arms pulled back into terribly painful positions, and something cold and metal pressed up against his head. England might think he was stupid, but he knew damn well that there was a gun pressed up against his skull.

"Now you're going to answer a few questions for me, da? Hopefully you'll be a bit more helpful than your friend over there."

America glanced forward, and with hazy vision spotted England's trembling outline. He thanked god that Braginski had the gun pointed at him and not the Brit.

"Who sent you?"

"Ooh that's a tough one. Do I get to phone a friend?"

America smiled as he heard England chuckle, but his happiness was cut short as he was struck hard across the face with the gun.

"How much do you know? Do not mess with me." Ivan's eyes were locked on Alfred's form below him, gun back in position against his head.

A pause hung in the air as no one responded. The Russian quickly hit the American again, and blood started to ooze from his nose.

"I don't know anything…" America whispered truthfully.

"LIES!" Ivan screamed, "I know you two possess information! Either you or your British boyfriend will speak or I will blow your brains out," slowly the Russian started to pull back the trigger, "You have ten seconds."

"Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven… Six… Five… Four… Three… Two…"

"DON'T! There are bombs in the phones. You plan to detonate them simultaneously at the ceremony tomorrow, but I don't know how. Please, that's all I know! Don't hurt him!"

Blue and violet eyes, flew to meet troubled green ones. England was trembling, clearly affected by having seen America beaten, and staring death in the face. He hung his head in shame, weak and vulnerable, like he'd just given in.

"Good. That's all I need to know," the Russian pulled back his gun and place it back within the confines of his coat, "I'm surprised you figured out so much, but still don't know the secret to my strategy."

He continued to keep America pinned down as he went on.

"Well since you're both going to die anyway, I really don't mind sharing my plan with you. My new phone works by vocal commands, da? So it would only be suitable to have the inventor start the ceremony with a boom."

Everything fell into place in the spies minds. The phones where designed to follow voice orders, but realistically they would only come from one person. Tomorrow at noon, one voice would have the power to kill hundreds of innocent people.

"Tomorrow I will become the ruler of world communication. No one will be able to stop me!" he laughed malevolently, then stood up and kicked America farther into the room.

"You know I could just blow your brains out now, but I think it would be much more fun if you froze to death. Ta-ta. Hopefully it's a bit warmer down under."

America jumped to his feet and bounded to the door, but got there just in time to skid right into it. He struggled with the door knob, pleading mercy with it to open to no avail. The American continued for several more minutes until a hushed accent made its way to his ears.

"America… I'm afraid we're trapped."

"Shit."

* * *

**I hope that calmed you all down... well sort of. England's not dead, but now they're stuck in makeshift freezer T_T**

**Sorry if I can't write the fight scenes well (never done that before, so...) but I'll try to get better!**

**Hope to see you all in the new year~ :D**

**(P.s. Happy Boxing Day in the UK and Canada ^^)  
**


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rights go to the respected owners. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.

A/N: Omg I'm so sorry this took so long :( If you'd like to read about my excuses, feel free, but I won't hold it against you if you ignore this author's note and go straight for the story. For those of you who are continuing to read this :D Again I'm sorry. I've started up another chapter fic called "Locked Away" and I wrote a oneshot as well, so basically I've just been totally procrasting with this story. I'm glad you're sticking with it though! Thank you for the many reviews, favourites, etc. Enjoy!

* * *

"You know, we'll probably die if you just sit there and sulk."

America cocked his head slightly from staring at the door, only to offer England a nasty glare.

"Shut up. This is all your fault to begin with."

"My fault? How on Earth is this my-"

"'_Oh America I'll be fine, Oh America I promise I'll stay safe,'" _mocked Alfred,_ " _BS. This wouldn't have happened if you just let me come with you."

"Well _excuse me_ for trying to keep you safe, twit."

"Yeah and that turned out real well, didn't it smart one."

America wiped some of the last drips of blood that continued to trickle from his nose. He knew this wasn't entirely England's fault, but he was angry right now and he needed a way to vent.

"America honestly-"

"Oh and another thing!" the American started, gradually increasing in volume, "Stop calling me that! It was cool at the beginning, but then it just got so stupid and annoying!"

England looked at him completely shocked. He opened his mouth in reply, but America … or 'the other man who doesn't want to be called America' continued to rant.

"Since you managed to lead us straight to our death beds, you might as well know my name is Alfred. Alfred Fucking F. Jones. Get it? That's what the F stands for," he started to chuckle coldly, "So stop freakin' calling me _America._"

Silence.

England stared at the American, his eyes expressing horror and disbelief. He didn't want America to act like this. What had happened to the bright and lively man he'd met at the beginning of this mess? What happened to those blue eyes so pure and true, that now just looked genuinely lost and exhausted? What happened to the man he'd started to fall in l- … the man he'd… developed a slight crush on?

"America-"

"Alfred!"

Emerald eyes locked with blue ones, trying to communicate something England just couldn't put into words. He was sorry. He'd never meant for America to get hurt, but on the other hand, that was part of the job wasn't it? Regardless, all he really wanted was to stop the American's breakdown, and think of a way to escape. He would make it up to the man later.

"Right… well… please calm down. I'm sorry that this happened, and I admit that it's partially my doing, but please… We're never going to get out of here if we don't focus our intentions on escaping."

Alfred looked up at him, after having centered his attention on the concrete floor. He eyed England, disposition softening, until he finally managed to calm down.

"You're right… I'm sorry. I was just naive and stupid. A child just like you said."

"Alfred… Belt up. I didn't know what I was talking about back then. I'd only just met you."

"Well you have some damn good instincts then," the American smiled softly, "But uh- England?... Even though this probably isn't the best place for sentimentality… I'm really glad I met you."

The Briton pinked, flushing from the tips of his ears to the tip of his nose. America was right, now really wasn't the time or place for any type of confession, but he'd take it nonetheless.

"Me too Alfred, me too," He looked from the younger to the floor and back releasing a sigh, "But honestly, we need to get the hell out of here or I might be the _last_ person you meet."

Alfred smiled before he practically bolted over to the Englishman. He kneeled down to the man and crept behind him to inspect the damage. England's right hand was bloodied and bruised, starting to turn a slight shade of purple, while his left looked a bit better with just a few scattered cuts and minor injuries. America frowned though, noting that he couldn't exactly do anything about it while the Brit's hands were bound.

"Damn that rope looks pretty tight."

England snickered at that, "Yes, well in this case, looks do not deceive."

Alfred tried his best to smile reassuringly, but he himself was incredibly worried. The two of them were immured here in this… cold hell, and the American didn't know what he could use to cut the rope.

"_What do I have? Gun- no. Locator watch- no. Smoke bomb- no. Super sticky gum- no… Dammit!"_

Alfred hissed in frustration as he ran a hand through his hair.

"_Why does this have to be so difficult? Ugh… I don't suppose things could go back to being easy like target practice, and holding hands in the airport."_

A small blush spread across the blue-eyed man's face at that thought. How long ago was that? A day? A few hours? Everything had been fine… They'd changed clothes, England looked hot, the two of them had walked hand in hand to the limo… Wait a second. Was there something the American's mind was trying to communicate to him through that memory? Airport. England. Changing- Changing!

"My Swiss army knife!"

Alfred dug around in his pocket, as the realization flooded his brain. He'd used the knife to cut his clothing tags, and now his subconscious had sent him that reminder. The man pulled the object out of his trousers and smiled at England.

"Alright I'm gonna cut you free kay? Stay still, I don't wanna hurt you."

England rolled his eyes and nodded; a silent concession to proceed in his actions.

Alfred flicked open the knife, and very carefully brought it to the Briton's wrists. Now was definitely not the time to be scared, one wrong move and he could slice open England's veins.

He sucked in a deep breath, and then with all the concentration he possessed, started to cut. Slowly but surely he managed to do away with the rope. It fell to the floor, and instantly England brought his hands in front of him. He scowled down at them, and the American returned the knife to his pocket.

"The right is definitely broken. I should've been more careful."

Meanwhile, as Arthur examined his hands, Alfred had undone the tie that earlier England had fitted around his neck. He removed it from his collar and then momentarily hovered above the Briton's broken hand.

"Um… I'm gonna wrap it up ok? Compression is good for this sort of thing."

Again, without a sound the Brit nodded and Alfred went to work. With just as much care and precision as before, he wrapped the appendage tightly, frowning each time the Briton so much as flinched.

"I'm sorry. It'll be over soon, it'll feel better I promise."

Quickly he finished up the wrapping, and without thinking twice lent down and applied a light kiss to the bandaged hand. Leaning back up, he was met with a grateful, yet embarrassed face, which simply made the American smile.

"There ya go! All done."

"Thank you doctor. Are you going to give me a lollie as well?"

Alfred chuckled as he stood up and extended an arm to the Brit. He took it, with his stable hand, and clumsily managed to stand.

"Now that your hand's covered, we gotta figure a way outta here."

The two looked around the chilly room, and noted that it was quite bear. The walls were white, a few pipes adorning them but nothing more. No objects existed in this eerie and sterile environment; it reminded America of solitary confinement, only it was freakishly cold, and he wasn't alone.

England walked around before he stopped and started to inspect a piece of wall on the far side of the room. It looked like every other patch, but for some reason this area seemed to mystify the Briton. Alfred approached eagerly, hoping that maybe the Brit had figured something out.

"Is it like a secret brick or something? Ya know you press it in, and the whole wall twists around."

England rolled his eyes, but chuckled at the younger's juvenile dreams.

"I'm not Bond, Alfred."

"No… you're better."

The Briton looked up and found the American gleaming down at him. He suddenly felt something build in the pit of his stomach; it was… some type of hope. That smile… Alfred didn't deserve to die cooped up like this. He was too young… Arthur didn't really deserve to die either, but he would never forgive himself if he let his younger colleague die like this. He would see to it that the American escape. Now, with renewed passion and confidence, Arthur scanned the walls of the chamber desperately trying to concoct a plan. Something had to work… They… or at least Alfred had to make it out of here alive.

He glanced around, mapping out the entire layout of the room and walls in his mind. The Brit turned slowly, assuring that he didn't miss a single dent in the wall, chip in the paint, crack in a pipe; yet there was nothing that he could possibly think to use for a breakout. Arthur sighed as he made a complete 360, refusing to completely accept the dismal situation. He looked up, as if praying for an answer and-

"AN AIR DUCT!"

Alfred flinched at the sudden noise, but when comprehension struck, he followed the Brit's eyes to where there was in fact a vent in the upper left hand corner of the room. It must have been about 15 feet of the floor, and the small compartment looked relatively small to the American (he wasn't quite sure he'd be able to fit) but it was a way out.

"_Wow. Now is totally not the time to be self conscious about your weight Alfred…"_

England strolled closer to the wall, touching it and devising a plan in his mind. There was a pipe that slinked up the wall, no more than two feet from the air vent. Perhaps if he could climb it, and undo the screws they could squeeze their way through the channel.

"I have an idea," England smirked. He grabbed at the American's hand, leading him toward the pipe on the wall, "I recall you wanting to save the day?"

Alfred leveled the Brit a firm look, after glancing at the vent, pipe and back.

"Look, all you have to do is climb the pipe, open up the vent and crawl through. Plain and simple."

The American looked away, seemingly mulling it over in his mind. The plan sounded good, but there were flaws, and Alfred wasted no time in pointing them out.

"How am I supposed to open the vent?"

"Use your head Alfred, really," the Brit said as he gesticulated toward the man's pocket.

"…I really don't think I can unscrew stuff with my head…"

England face palmed with his good hand, before he pulled his hand away and reached into the younger's trousers.

"Hey what the he-"

"The knife Alfred," he said nonchalantly, as he showed it to him, and returned it to his pocket.

"Oh…" An awkward silence hovered over them for a few moments as Alfred digested the plan, and tried to ignore the fact that the Briton had just reached a hand inside his pants.

"England, that's great and all… but what about your hand?"

Crap. He hadn't thought of that. Even with all the upper body strength in the world, there was no way the Brit could scale a wall without the use of his dominant hand.

"Oh… well…" he was literally at a loss for words, "Well you'll climb out, and come back and get me."

"Absolutely not."

"What? Why-"

"I'm not leaving you again."

Arthur peeked up through the hem of his fringe, absorbing what Alfred had said. He felt touched, and his reddening cheeks made the feeling known, but he was not about to let the younger man stay here and freeze to death on account of him.

"No. You're going to climb the bloody pipe, get out of here, and take down Braginski. Is that clear?"

"Ya 'course, and you're coming with me."

Without being able to recriminate, Alfred wrapped his left arm tightly around the Brit's waist as he neared closer to the pipe.

"Alright, we're gonna do this together, okay? I'll hold you with my submissive arm, and scale with my right. You're going to do the opposite. Obviously, try not to move your right hand, but you'll help me climb with your left."

The American avidly looked down at the Brit, who still seemed to be quite stunned. He nodded and muttered an "Alright…" but Alfred could tell he still wasn't one hundred percent on the idea.

"Don't worry, we'll be fine. I have faith in you England."

He leant down and kissed the Brit's temple, before immediately going back to the task at hand. His arm constricted tighter around the frail body, and he took the first initiative in their climb. England quickly followed suit, left arm reaching out to grab at the molded pipe.

"That's it! Were already a few feet of the ground!"

With new encouragement, the two slowly but surely managed to climb the expanse of wall until they reached the top. Now came the issue of opening up the vent.

"Hmmm… Probably should have thought about this when we were on the ground…"

"Oh how bloody brilliant," England hummed in mock amusement, "You better not let go, for I don't believe I can withstand the weight of the two of us."

"Are you calling me fat?"

England scowled, and America smirked as the two continued to cling to the top of the pipe.

"Ok I've gotta let go but just for a second to get the knife out of my pocket. Then I'll hold us both up while you unscrew the vent. Sound good?"

"Bloody fantastic. Now hurry up Alfred, or both my arm and willpower will give out."

Quickly, listening to instruction, Alfred let go for a frightening second to fish around in his pocket of the knife. He pulled it out quickly, placing it in his mouth to hold and clamping down on it with his teeth before returning his arm to a foothold on the icy pipe.

"Okahh isch in maaa mouud!" Alfred yelped through disabled speech.

England turned his head, only to find the American smiling even while the shiny red metal was sticking out of his mouth. The blade was yet to be switched open, making it possible for the Briton to take hold of it without hurting himself.

"Alright are you ready?"

The American nodded vigorously, and a second later England relinquished his hold, and seized the knife.

"Got it!"

Alfred stuck his tongue out, in distaste.

"Good thing too, that tasted horrible."

Arthur smirked, unknown to Alfred who was currently focusing all his attention on holding up the two of them. The Brit, literally _in his other hand, _was tilting dangerously to the side, to get a better aim at the vent's screws. He flicked open the blade, and slowly went to work, undoing the outlet.

After a few minutes a single screw fell to the floor.

"Hey England… I don't wanna be an ass or anything," he trembled a bit, still keeping a tight hold on both his partner and the pipe, "But could you maybe move a little faster?"

Now England toyed with the screws a bit more hastily, in a desperate attempt to get them free. Two more fell with a pang to the ground, and eventually the last one hit the floor as well. The Briton grabbed the covering, and dropped it below, revealing a channel behind the air duct.

"Alright it's clear," he said, starting to feel the American's upper body strength giving way.

"Awesome. If I give you a little push, can you make it?"

"Yes I think so."

"Kay on the count of three ready? One…two…three!"

England leant to his side, grabbing at the edges of the entry way. Alfred, using as much energy as he could, pushed the Brit upwards with the hand he had used to hold him. The Briton clasped at the opening, finally managing to get a grip and pulling himself inside. Breathing hard, he was able to turn himself around within the small space to peer out toward Alfred.

"Ok I'm in! Now you come too!"

Complying, the American ascended up the pipe a tad more, before leaning over to grasp at the opening. He caught the edge with one hand, and thinking it safe, decided to release the other. He let go of the pipe completely, and swung his other hand toward the corridor. As he did so, the American somehow managed to lose his footing, and swung perilously from the vent with one hand.

"Alfred!"

Without a second thought, the Brit leaned out and grabbed the younger's hand, pulling with all his might. Alfred managed to finally clasp onto the edge, and together they tumbled into the venting system. For a moment, the two of them just lay there, Alfred on top, England on bottom, breathing hard as they accounted what just happened.

"So… I got you moaning my name already?" the American chimed in cheekily.

"Insufferable… Bloody…"

England threw him off, though ensuring to push him to the side, not backwards. He thrust himself up on his hands and knees, instructing the American to do the same.

"This seems to be a channel of corridors that leads through the building. Theoretically, there should be other vents we can break through, elsewhere in the mansion."

"Got it. So… we're just gonna look around for another exit?"

"Precisely. But keep in mind, we must enter through a quiet outlet, else anyone figure out that we're gone."

"Roger."

On their hands and knees, the spies started to crawl through the passages like animals on the hunt. They were dead silent (unless America felt the need to complain about a certain turn England made, or the fact that the Briton's ass was way too close to his face for comfort) but for the most part, they inched along inaudibly looking for an escape route.

"This is the third right you've made!" the American whined, "Why didn't you just turn left?"

"Hush up. I think I've found an exit."

The Briton crept closer to a closing on the wall, peering through the bars that separated the airway and outside world. From where he was, the Brit could make out a bed, dresser, wardrobe and practically everything customary to a stereotypical hotel room.

"I think it's another guest room."

Due to the lack of space in the air duct, Alfred was unable to get closer and take a look himself. He took the other's word for it, and instead asked in intelligent question.

"Is it empty?"

England glanced around, quietly for a few moments, before answering the younger's query.

"Yes, I do believe it is."

"Alright awesome! So break through it or something."

"Alfred do you _want_ me to break my other hand?"

"Well ah no-"

"But it does look fairly rusty. I can't risk breaking my other hand, but perhaps you can punch through it?"

"Yeah sure thing! The hero can do anything ya know."

"Yes, I'm quite aware. Alright, back up so we can switch spots. You break through and jump, and I'll follow."

After some awkward twisting and turning, the two had reversed their positions, and Alfred found himself in front of the vent. Now he was staring at the metal, wondering just how he was going to do this.

"_Dude calm down. You took karate as a kid. You can totally do it."_

"Everything alright up there?" England asked a bit concerned.

"Uh- hahaha! Yeah," America improvised, "Everything is jolly good!"

"You know, a lot of us don't even say tha-"

-Clang-

The Brit stopped mid sentence at hearing the metal covering strike against the empty floor.

"What were you saying?"

"Ah…nothing. Just jump you idiot."

"Don't I get a thank you-"

"Just jump dammit!"

And without requiring any more incentive, Alfred took the plunge, leaping down fifteen feet below. He amazingly landed on his feet, no injuries to his hands, legs, or any part of his body. Arthur crawled forward, took a look down, and got just the slightest bit nervous. Alfred seemed to sense this, and instead of being a jerk about it, decided it was in both of their best interests to be gentle.

"England there's nothing to worry about," he assured, "I'll even stand right below and catch you."

The Briton looked down at the smiling face of the American and scowled.

"I don't need you to catch me!"

"Alright then," Alfred took a step back, replacing his arms to his sides, which had previously been out to catch the British bundle.

"_That's it. Can't take a hit to your pride lad. You'll jump, and you'll be perfectly fine."_

And so, England jumped, but didn't land anywhere near as gracefully as his counterpart. The Brit slipped, once he hit the floor, and fell ceremoniously onto his rump. Alfred tried to keep in some of the giggles, but it was really a lost cause.

"Oh belt up! I'm not the one that almost fell to his death back in the other room!"

England continued to grumble to himself, as he stood up and walked over to the American. So much for keeping his pride intact.

"S-sorry England. It's just…hehe!"

The Briton ignored him, not really in the mood to start to squabble. Instead, he opted to look around the room, perhaps giving a hint as to where they were. He looked out the window to find nothing helpful, and then landed his eyes on a clock on the bed stand.

"Oh my god. The ceremony is in an hour Alfred! What the hell are we suppose to do?"

Finally the American managed to stop laughing at the solemn tone of his partner. As much as he didn't want to believe it, England was right and the festivities were set to start soon. At this point, there wasn't much the spies could do, but they had to try; the lives of thousands of innocent people were at risk. It had come down to the wire, and Alfred decided that they were going to stop Braginski or die trying.

"There's only one thing left to do," he grabbed at the Briton's hand and tugged him toward the door, "Run."

* * *

**Only 2 or 3 chapters left in this story :D Thanks to all of you who have stuck with the story thus far! I hope you're still enjoying it, and if you have a moment, please review! :)**

**(Also a friend of mine pre-read this for me, and pointed out about 10 'That's what she said' jokes. I'm sorry if you had a similar experience T_T  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rights go to the respected owners. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. **

**A/N: *Sigh* Yes, I know this took way, way, _way_ to long. Clearly I can't handle writing two chapter fics at the same time... xD But! This story is almost done :D There should only be one or two chapters left! I hope you forgive me for my hiatus... But now that it's over... Enjoy!~**

* * *

How they'd already made it through the mazelike mansion to the main hallway in record time was anyone's guess really. All England knew was that his breath was ragged and labored, while America simply kept dragging him like a rag doll.

"Dude Iggy, can you quiet your breathing down? I don't want to get caught on account of your ass-mar," Alfred said with a smirk. However the only reaction he evoked from England was a scowl; regardless of his cheeky allusion to British literature.

"Oh_ haha. _Very funny Alfred," England paused mid-sentence to fill his lungs the best he could as they ran. "Perhaps I wouldn't be struggling if you simply slowed down for a moment!"

Alfred simultaneously frowned while speeding up; an unspoken response that he would not abide to England's stipulation. He continued to run through the mile long hallway, weaving in and out of the marble pillars as he gave his reply.

"We can't slow down England! We've got," Alfred darted his eyes to his super-awesome-spy watch for its original purpose. "We've only got 54 minutes until Ivan blows everyone up with his creeper voice! That is _not_ how I'd like to go."

Within a fraction of a second, as Alfred stopped talking, England had stopped moving. The force from his halted mass swung through the American's grip, and Arthur's inertia was not enough to stop Alfred in his sprint. Instead, the physics of the matter had sent them both tumbling to the floor, skidding along the ground until they came to a stop against a marble column. The younger looked up to find the smaller man on top of him and lightly pushed him off.

"What the hell was that?" He hiss-whispered as he picked himself up, and brushed himself off. "Why'd you stop running? Now not only did we waste some vital time, but someone might have heard that fall!"

England managed to push himself up of the ground using his good hand, and with his eyes downcast, rebuked the American spy.

"Alfred… there's no use. Believe me, I'm not a quitter, I've never once backed down in the face of danger, but in some cases it's simply inescapable," his eyes traveled upward to meet shocked pools of blue sky and continued. "We tried our best, but honestly, think about it. How are we going to get from Klaoud to Moscow in a matter of minutes? It's impossible lad! I hate to acknowledge it, but sometimes we can't win… At this point, our best option would probably be to alert the Russian authorities and hope they make it in time."

Arthur's speech ceased, and his lips met, silencing any other words that may have attempted to break free from his raw throat. In turn, Alfred said nothing. He stood there, staring at his partner in disbelief. England; the world renowned spy (well to those who were in the industry and knew of him) had just given up. Someone Alfred had admired, looked up to, aspired to be, had just admitted defeat. No. Alfred would not allow this to happen.

"No." he said calmly, trying to strike a tone of aplomb.

"I know Alfred, I know. This was one of your first real missions and you wanted to be the hero, but try to be sensible. There's just no way we can mak-"

Arthur's sentence was terminated as he was thrust against the wall, unwavering American hands on his collar. The younger man had a mix of emotions written on his face, blending to make him appear lost and confused. Alfred looked angry, he did, but it seemed to be a façade hiding something deeper that Arthur could see through his now storm-ridden sky eyes. At this point the thunderous pools seemed grayer than blue, and sky that looked so beautiful earlier now looked about ready for a heavy rainfall. But by now England was an expert at interpreting Alfred through the sensational sapphires; his experience in reading those eyes quickly helped him to realise that America wasn't angry, simply distraught, and had lost control over his actions.

"I said NO! Did you mishear? I know you think that I only want to do this to 'be a hero' but that's wrong! Sure I want to save people; be brave and confident, and someone to admire, but that's not it England! Do you know why I won't give up on this? Do you?" He slammed England's body into the wall once more for good measure. "Do you?" he repeated. When the elder failed to respond, Alfred answered for him. "It's because I have something called _Integrity!"_

The Briton matched the American's gaze, half startled from the outburst and abuse and half ashamed of his own actions. Alfred was right; one can't give up like this. It's just… It's just…

"What if this were a battle England? What if our countries were at war? Would you just give up because you were dealt a bad hand? Would you renounce yourself and leave the one's you love to fend for themselves?" Alfred's eyes glistened now, on the verge of tears. "Would you England? Because I'd sure as hell never give up on the ones I love. I'd never give up on you England."

Arthur gaped at his counterpart as a single tear made its way down his torn and reddened face. The Brit was left in complete and utter shock but found the only thing he could do was lift a finger and gently catch the tear, caressing the younger's face. Alfred looked up at him, smiling weakly as his arms moved from their hold on the Brit's collar to wrap around his waist. He rested his forehead against Arthur's, warm skin against warm skin. Now was a terrible time for sentimentality, but it simply couldn't be helped. England enveloped his arms around the younger, completing the embrace as he spoke gently.

"No Alfred… I would never give up on you. I can't believe I'd even given up on myself. Thank you… for bringing me back to practicality."

Slowly, England maneuvered his good hand from where it resided bellow Alfred's eye to wrap around his neck. He pulled him forward slightly, an attempt to reclaim the previous kiss that never was. Alfred's lips quirked into a small smile, and he closed his eyes drowning into pleasant thoughts and inquiries. They moved closer, to the point where breath was felt on each other's lips and then-

The sound of a car revving its engine. England pulled away instantaneously, and Alfred lazily opened his sapphires, clearly not pleased with the intrusion.

"Shit!" Arthur whispered as he glanced in the direction of the sound.

"I know right! We're never gonna kiss!"

Arthur half-turned to administer a glare, but at the same time, his cheeks were stained pink. He grabbed Alfred's hand and began pulling him along, much like the reverse of earlier.

"Come on we have to hide idiot!"

The sound of the vehicle increased, signifying it was getting closer. At that moment England seemed to remember something.

"Bloody fu- Alfred, do you remember that boy who gave us a tour yesterday?" Had it really only been yesterday?

"Uh the little guy? Yeah, why?" The two continued their frenzied running and frantic breathing patterns, as the car or truck or whatever it was neared closer.

"Hadn't he said there was a garage off one of these doors in the main hallway?"

Alfred sparred a glance back, and that's when he noticed headlights.

"SHIT!"

Without a second thought, Alfred pushed Arthur behind a marble column, tumbling after him. He crawled over the smaller body, and doused his pistol from his hip. He hovered over England and aimed the gun, like a mother lion protecting her cub. The lights drew nearer, and the Brit pulled down on the American, edging him closer to the floor.

"Get down you idiot!" He whispered, and Alfred slightly obliged, but remained at a stance with an allowance to shoot.

The illumination grew until both spies were nearly blinded and the vehicle was less than 500 feet from them. At this point they could make out the fact that what was drawing closer to them was a motorcycle, but they could still not identify the rider. The bike closed the distance between them, and as the speed of the chopper decreased, two hearts beat faster. All at once the brakes were hit, and Alfred fired his gun. He didn't know who it was, and he didn't really care so long as they were a threat to England and his own safety. The brunette operating the motorbike ducked, dodging the bullet and held up both his arms.

"Don't shoot! If that's you Mr. Burrows, I'm here to help, not hurt!"

The Briton raised an eyebrow quizzically below the American, and inquired quietly, "Do you know him?"

America stared straight at his addressor, trying to place him. He had shoulder length brown hair, green eyes, (though completely different from England's) and an extremely sympathetic look even though he'd just been shot at. Who was he? It was on the tip of Alfred's tongue.

"I'm Toris, Braginski's personal secretary."

That was it. Everything flowed back to Alfred now. The small talk, his crappy jokes, and his attempt at infiltration. He remembered now, but he kept his gun pointed and his guard over England intact.

"I remember you. But why should I trust you?"

Very slowly, Toris made a move, hitching his leg over the side of the bike to stand straight. When he reached for his gun, America got ready to fire, but was painfully surprised when he put the weapon on the floor and kicked it over to the pair of spies.

"You can trust me. I'm defenseless; I wouldn't have done that if my objective was to hurt you."

Alfred grabbed at the abandoned gun, handing it to the man underneath him, before he responded.

"How do I know you don't have a knife on you or something?"

Toris ignored his comment.

"Mr. Burrows, please. We don't have time to argue. I know why you're here. I'm a part of the resistance just as Eduard was."

Alfred lowered his gun a tad, remembering the man who had given him the key and directions to England. He hadn't been bad, and in all honesty, he was thankful he'd run into the man.

"Go on." The spy commanded, and Toris did.

"I'm a member of the resistance along with my close friends Eduard and Raivis. When we heard that there were spies in the building trying to take out Braginski, we knew we had to help." He seemed to pause allowing that to sink in before continuing. "I didn't know you were the spy when I met you yesterday, but after your encounter with Eduard, word spread. We kept a close watch on you, knowing you'd somehow manage to escape from Ivan's clutches. It was Eduard who notified me. Being the technological director, he has access to all the cameras in the building. When he noticed the two of you making a break for it, he sent me to find you."

Alfred lowered his gun completely and returned it to his hip. He leant up slightly, deeming it was safe, and revealing England to the newcomer.

"Ah, I'm glad to see no harm has come to Mr. Heights either; well besides his broken hand."

"How did you know my hand is broken?" England inquired as he sat up. The brunette smiled sadly and met his gaze.

"Ivan made me watch as he broke it. He seems to enjoy sharing suffering amongst the others…"

Alfred cringed and looked away. God! If he was forced to watch as the bastard broke England's hand… he didn't want to think about it.

"Anyway, I'm sorry but that is in the past, and _now _is what is important. I know you need to catch up to Ivan; he must be nearly to the ceremony now."

Alfred looked at his watch.

"42 minutes! Crap!"

"Yes, by now he is most certainly there," the brunette confirmed solemnly, "and that is why I have brought you this motorcycle; you must catch up to him. You are really the only ones I believe can stop Braginski."

Cautiously Alfred stood up, extending a hand to England and lifting him as well. The Brit stowed his newly received weapon away before the two moved toward the motorcycle and the man, examining both one last time to ensure this wasn't all one big trap.

"You're certain we can have th-"

A sense of dread and déjà vu washed over the spies as they heard yet another engine roar to life.

Toris' face paled and he rushed the two onto the bike.

"Yes, please, go! You must go now!"

Alfred took the front seat, hands on the handle bars, foot on the gas. England sat behind him, reluctantly wrapping his arms around the younger. America would have made another sly comment had it not been for another ghastly sound emitted from the engine far off.

"You need to go!" Toris fretted, eyes gone wide. "The only other person who has a key to the garage besides Ivan and I is…"

More revving and it was growing louder. England gripped onto America tighter, and the younger swallowed a lump in his throat.

"Her name is Natalia, and she is Ivan's faithful sister. No doubt she's heard of your escape and is coming after you."

"Oh pfft a _girl_? We can handl-"

A gunshot cracked through the air and Toris dove behind a pillar.

"Go!" he screamed and Alfred hit the gas harder than he ever had in his life.

"We can handle it?" England questioned crossly.

Alfred smirked, though the Brit couldn't see it.

"Hold tight England. We're in for a bumpy ride."

* * *

The motorcycle zoomed down the marble clad hall and through the double mahogany doors that had been left propped open. Alfred sped up, not at all caring as the two bounced up and down while descending the outside staircase. The Briton clutched the American tighter as they made their way down and to the cobblestone driveway. When said driver made an immediate left, causing the Brit to lurch in the other direction, Arthur dug his nails further into the American's torso and rested his head on a rather broad shoulder.

"Hey what's the matter Iggy?" Alfred said with a snicker. "I know you liked me, but I didn't realise you were so clingy."

"Idiot. Your awful driving skills are making me sick."

Alfred smiled, and he could feel England's sandy blonde hair tickle his neck as the other lent closer. This would actually be pretty romantic if they weren't being chased by some lunatic's loyal sister, while trying to save the lives of thousands of people.

The American turned onto the main road, following the sign to Moscow. Since each spy was required to know a few languages for their trade, Alfred could read, write and speak Russian in addition to a few other languages. The younger remembered England telling him he spoke French, albeit regretfully. Once on the highway, America noticed there wasn't much traffic to speak of.

"_Damn! Now I can't show England a cool weaving move," the American thought, rather pissed._

Arthur lifted his head and allowed the wind to whip through his lavished locks. He looked around as the breeze mussed up his already messy hair.

"Hey how's that chick doing?" America inquired.

England craned his neck backwards and his eyes widened. No more than a quarter mile away was the stunning woman they'd seen at the party. The girl looked absolutely feral; anger emanated from every facial feature, and she drove her motorbike aggressively with one hand since the other was a bit occupied aiming a clearly loaded pistol at the spies.

"Alfred speed up, dammit!"

"We're already going 90 Eng-"

"I said speed up!"

Alfred slammed on the pedal as hard as he could and managed to accelerate to about 100 mph. The American chanced a look back and found that the woman was indeed close to them. He returned frontwards and tried to increase their speed, but the bike wouldn't go much faster.

Meanwhile, not preoccupied with driving, England could only watch in horror as the woman matched their speed and neared closer.

"Alfred she's gaining."

"Alright England, calm down."

"Alfred she's gaining!"

"I'm working on it England!"

"Alfred she's gain- Duck!"

England ducked down and forced Alfred to do the same as a bullet whizzed past them. The two could hear faint maniacal laughing behind them, along with mumbled speech. The Briton was fairly certain he could make out something along the lines of "I love you brother."

"Shoot her England!"

"Are you insane?"

"She's shooting at us!"

"My hand's broken!"

"Use the other one!"

"She's a woman!"

"So?"

"Alfred that goes against all my moral cod- Swerve!"

The American did as he was told and swerved to the left into oncoming traffic. They'd dodged three more bullets and a lorry by the time it took Alfred to navigate back to the right side of the road.

"England do something!" the American yelled through clenched teeth as he tried to concentrate on driving.

Head spinning, the chief spy tried to think of his options. He couldn't shoot her… not a woman. Shooting a woman is only an option as a last resort. There had to be something else.

"Sometime this century, England!" the American demanded whilst making sharp turns to veer out of the way of bullets and the little traffic on the road.

"_Think dammit, think! All we have is a few guns… a motorcycle and Alfred has that stupid gum and-"_

"Your watch, Alfred! Your watch!"

"I already found you England, the watch is useless now."

"Its other use Alfred! It's a smoke bomb!"

Then it dawned on the American. What had France said?

"_Oh also," the Frenchman interrupted, "It can be used for one more thing if needed," he paused and pointed to a small button on the side of the watch, "press this and in 30 seconds the watch becomes an effective smoke grenade. Make sure you throw it far away from you."_

Alfred started to unfasten the watch from his wrist while maneuvering and evading singlehandedly.

"Here!" the American exclaimed as he pushed the spyware into England's good hand that was latched onto his stomach.

"Alfred I can't throw it! We have one chance and I don't even have the use of my dominant hand. It has to be you!"

Alfred looked back and caught sight of his partner. His words were sincere; this was not optional, it was necessary. It was up to him now.

"So you're saying I've gotta be the hero?" he said with a smirk.

"Alfred!"

"Alright I got this." He retrieved the watch from his companion and pressed the button.

"GIT! Now it's gonna go off in 30 seconds!"

"Gonna? Isn't that improper grammar, England?" the American replied calmly.

"Idiot! You have 25 seconds!"

"I know! On the count of three, you take the wheel okay?"

"What?"

"THREE!"

Alfred let go of the controls and Arthur was forced to contort in such a way that he could grasp the helm with his valid hand. He groped for the left handlebar, found it, and attempted to drive in his awkward position without the use of his mutilated hand. Alfred on the other hand, smiled deviously as he aimed the projectile toward the other motorcycle.

"Ready to kick butt, England?"

"Throw the damn thing already!"

And America did. The watch made it about three quarters of the way there, exploding in mid air, and leaving Natalia veering left and right into the cloud of smoke. Within thirty seconds the spies heard a vibrant crash sound; Arthur cringed while Alfred fist pumped.

"Score!"

"I hope she's alright…"

Alfred turned his body back around and grinned when finding Arthur operating the vehicle in such a knotted position. He smiled and with his own advantageous pose lent to the side to deliver a kiss to the Brit's cheek.

"Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Height," America said cheekily as resumed charge over the controls. Arthur huffed and returned his left hand to Alfred's well toned torso.

"Hmmf."

"Hey Iggy we should play Twister sometime."

"Sorry?"

"Oh you're right! Sorry's even better!"

Arthur just sighed and grasped his American closer.

"Just drive, git."

After all, someone was waiting for them at the next exit.

* * *

**Was it worth the wait? I certainly hope so. If not, hold tight! It's almost over :) **

**Also! If you didn't understand the allusion America made to "British Literature" it was simply a reference to _Lord of the Flies_. Not a big deal but I thought I'd mention it.**

**Please don't forget to review, and I'll see you next time! -Iggycat (My best wishes to William and Kate on this special day!)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rights go to the respected owners. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. **

**A/N: Well... this is it guys :) This is the last chapter. It took me a month and a half to finally finish it, but it's here now. I just want to thank everyone who has been with me since the beginning, and just, every single person who read and/or reviewed. It means a lot to me since this was the first chaptered fic I ever wrote, and my first fic to ever be completed. Anyway, I'm rambling now, but I hope you enjoy the last chapter of "This Affair Is Confidential." ;)**

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"How ya doin' back there England?" Alfred cocked his head around to ask as he started to navigate the narrower Russian streets.

"Besides attempting to hold down the bile in my stomach, I'd say quite well."

America let out a loud chortle as he turned his attention back to the road.

"Alrighty, well hold tight cause we're almost there." He paused for a moment before raising both his brows, as a smirk formed on his lips. "And please don't vomit on me. I like ya, but not _that_ much."

"Git…" England mumbled under his breath.

Alfred simply waved him off before his tone once again became stern.

"But in all seriousness, we're almost there England. Can you hold up?"

"Yes I'll be fine. I've been put through much worse you know. I can handle a little stomach ache."

"Good," America allowed one hand to momentarily leave the controls, and feathered it over England's fingers. He started to rub small circles with his thumb as he spoke. "It'll all be ok, right? We'll surely come out successful… right?"

Silence lapsed between the two of them, and fear immediately overtook the American. Of course England wasn't going to answer that question, how could he? It's not like he was able see into the future or anything… since if he could, this whole mess might have been avoided.

"Alfred."

The American half turned to look at his partner before averting his eyes back to the road.

"Hmm?"

"Alfred… I don't know what's going to happen, but I want you to know that you did the best bloody job you could have done."

America half-smiled at the statement, as he could see his destination nearing closer.

"Thanks England."

"And Alfred."

"Yeah?"

There was silence on the other end. When the Briton didn't speak, Alfred simply allowed him time to find his words as he pulled onto a side street. The American pulled up to a curb, and then slowed the vehicle to stop. He parked, and when England was still at a loss for words, he turned to face the Brit. Two glossy emerald orbs were staring back at him.

"England?"

But Arthur didn't say anything. Instead, he closed those vibrant eyes, and lent forward allowing for his pink lips to meet the American's. Alfred's eyes doubled, then tripled in size before he managed regain control and simply close them. He contorted his body the rest of the way around to properly face his partner as their lips melted together. England reached up to run a hand through the American's golden locks, and as a subsequent reaction, Alfred pulled him closer, flat up against his chest. When the Briton gasped slightly, the younger spy took that as an invitation and allowed his tongue to delve into the other's mouth. England tasted like tea. Alfred wasn't sure why that surprised him, but it did. Perhaps in the circumstance, he figured that the Brit would taste like sweat or blood, but…

At that moment England tilted his head, and his tongue ventured out to meet Alfred's. America smiled into the kiss as the two battled for dominance, and he ran his hands up and down the Brit's back. For a moment it was heaven. The two of them were engorged in their own complete world of bliss, in each other, and in a kiss that was long overdue. But nothing lasts forever, and as England pulled away slowly, red up to his ears and in need of breath, both the spies found themselves smiling.

"Wow…" was all Alfred could manage as he stared at the glowing Brit in front of him.

"I… I'm not very good with words, but I wanted you to kno-"

But Alfred lightly laid his lips on the older man's, silencing his words. When he pulled away, England was again staring at him wide-eyed.

"It's alright, England. Actions speak louder than words."

Alfred smiled then, and since his grins were contagious, it spread to the Brit as well.

"I don't know what's going to happen Alfred… but… I'm proud of you and… and… Iloveyou," Arthur strung out as quickly as he could.

For a moment Alfred just smiled. It warmed his heart to hear those three words, a term of affection he'd never received before. England… England loved him, and it had only been what, two and a half weeks? His mom would probably tell him he was rushing things, but the American thought otherwise. He spoke softly as he leant his forehead against the Briton's.

"Love works in mysterious ways, doesn't it?" Alfred said as he bumped noses with his partner. "After all, I fell for a stodgy, old, Brit, didn't I?"

America laughed, and England merely rolled his eyes.

"But England."

The Brit returned his attention to sky blue eyes.

"I am so happy I did."

The American smiled, and Arthur couldn't help but doing so as well. You never can control how you meet someone, nor whether or not you fall in love with them. Fate does some things on its own, and prospects can't do much more than simply help to push it along. England met America for a reason; it was fate, but what had brought them together had also almost torn them apart. Now that same cause threatened to do so again if the two didn't act fast.

"Alfred?"

"Yes?"

"Let's go kick some Russian arse."

* * *

Quiet crept along with the spies as an awkward silence ensued from their prior romantic happening. Neither seemed embarrassed, yet the two continued to lounge in a blissful hush. America spoke up as the two entered an alleyway.

"So, any plans for breaching security, England?"

Truth be told, Arthur didn't really have a plan. All he knew was what Canada had supplied to him in a myriad of manila folders before he'd left. Supposedly, Braginski was set to release his innovation in a park near the center of town. An outdoor stage would be set up along with row upon row of chairs to fit as many people into the area as possible. It made sense to the Brit now; cram as many people into the space as possible, but leave it wide open and therefore prime for escape. Braginski was cunning for the setup, but there was just one miscalculation: as easy as it was to escape, it would be just as easy to break in.

"Well honestly, Alfred, I was thinking the traditional sneak up from behind, knock them cold, and leave them to rot. Though once we're inside, our time will be limited." England paused to confirm his actions with the American. "How does that sound?"

The younger man beamed and fist-pumped, clearly excited for what was about to go down.

"Hellz yes!"

"Shhh! Alfred quiet down we're nearly there."

England spoke the truth. From where the two stood at the edge of the alleyway, the park could be seen about three blocks down. Since the spies were coming from the rear, they could make out the back entrance to the stage and a lonesome female watch guarding it. The girl standing there looked innocent enough, though dressed in a Zlo uniform. Her hair was cut short, with a black headband keeping her bangs in place, and her skin was pale and creamy. Arthur watched closely and noticed how she would fidget and check her watch every few minutes, as if waiting for something. As the Brit turned to consult his partner, he realized the American was fixated on something else.

"Oh my god, England! Do you see her jugs? Dude!"

The Brit scowled mechanically and smacked his counterpart upside the head.

"Idiot! Stop staring at her bosom and listen to my plan!"

As Arthur said this however, he could feel his cheeks heat up and immediately directed his gaze to the ground. He wanted to look anywhere but at that git right now, and consequently, he missed how a smirk made its way onto the young features of America's face. The Brit let out a soft gasp, as two strong arms snaked around him, and devious words were whispered hotly in his ear.

"There's no need to be jealous, England."

The Briton's face grew more vibrant as he tried to squirm out of the American's hold.

"Alfred, I bloody swear-"

"Just because I'm not hungry doesn't mean I can't look at the menu. Know what I'm sayin', England?" He purred into the older man's earlobe. "Of course I'll still only have the hots for yo- OW!"

Arthur smacked the American right across his face, leaving his cheek a nice shade of cherry red, just as England's was.

"Git! I know you have the attention span of a goldfish, but for the love of god, would you try to listen? We're trying to save lives dammit!"

That got Alfred to quiet down as he simply nodded apologetically and gave his full attention to England.

Arthur sighed and glanced up at the American. He looked tired, small bags collecting under those sky blue eyes. Neither one of them had received any rest in the past 24 hours, and it was clearly starting to affect both. Needless to say, they were trained to be able to withstand conditions like these, but even still, either one would kill for a moment of shut eye. England laid his non-injured hand on the American's shoulder and spoke gently.

"Alright, Alfred we've come this close and we are not flubbing up now, understood?"

Alfred nodded again, and a small smile was lifted the corners of his lips.

"Okay, I have a plan, and whilst it's not perfect, we'll have to make do."

"Go oooooon." Alfred prodded.

"We're going to attempt this as a pair. In a moment, I'll walk up to this young woman, make polite conversation and entertain her for a few minutes. In the meantime, I want you to exit the alley, walk down a few blocks and then cross the street when you're out of sight. Once that's done, and the little lady is distracted, you'll come up and take her from behind."

Alfred snickered but when Arthur glowered at him, he quickly shut his trap.

"You'll grab her and keep her quiet as I pick the lock, and the two of us enter. Once we do so, I'll lock the door and we'll have limited time to find Braginski. She's sure to warn the rest of security, so you must be on high alert. Is that understood?"

"Gotcha!" America started, but then he took on a more somber tone. "But uh… but England…"

"Yes?"

"What if we don't find Braginski in the allotted time frame?"

"We will Alfred; now go."

Arthur pushed him lightly, and the American smiled softly before he turned and started a hurried jog down the alleyway. England watched and waited until the lad turned the corner and was out of sight before he dusted off his attire, stuck his damaged hand into his trouser pocket to shield it from view, and strolled out of the alleyway. He tried to strike a look of nonchalance, glancing around every now and again as if admiring the scenery. To look too suspicious would certainly be a problem, but if he could make it seem like he was an innocent tourist trying to find his way to Braginski's event, he would surely fool the security guard.

As he came closer to the woman, she turned to look at him. The Brit faked abruptly becoming aware of her presence, and smiled as convincingly as he could as he approached her.

"Privet," England started a bit rusty, making it look as if he were one of the touristic clients for the new Zlo product. "Vy mozhete mne pomochʹ naĭti vhod?"

The girl blinked at him a few times before she cocked her head to look behind England. Arthur followed suit, suddenly concerned that she was looking for back-up or something of the like. The Briton took a step back out of fear but the guard leaned forward and grabbed his arm.

"No, no! You can't go anywhere, I need your help!"

The Englishman looked at her confused, surprised that she spoke English, and suspiciously raised his brows. He motioned to his wrist, but the girl shook her head, refusing to relinquish her grip.

"No, please don't leave. You are one of the agents, yes?" She asked in a thick Ukrainian accent and Arthur was shocked. His heart started racing, pounding in his chest, as the realization of what he'd just learned dawned on him. This girl knew who he was, and she somehow knew that he was coming. He, in addition to Alfred, were in serious trouble now, for she'd surely have them locked up again in no time.

Arthur had to think fast, but this was what he was trained for. He brought his injured hand out of his pocket and elbowed the guard in the side. While she was disoriented he pulled from her grip, and covered her mouth with his palm. She shook her head vehemently, and her eyes seemed to well up. She continued to shriek and scream through Arthur's hold on her, and as he pressed his hand onto her harder, she bit him.

"OW! Bloody fucking hell!"

She grabbed his shoulders and looked him directly in the eyes. England cursed his luck; she was going to call the rest of security, and he'd be done with, and all those innocent people would be-

"Listen to me! You've got it wrong! I am good, yes? I am with Toris and Eduard and Raivis!"

At those words England paled. He tried to step away, but the girl stood her ground as he eyed her suspiciously.

"You're also part of the resistance?" he whispered, afraid someone would hear their exchange of words. The girl nodded feverishly and grinned as the spy was coming to understand.

"Yes, I am! Eduard said you would be coming and that we should help you find my brother."

England's eyes expanded as if to take in all the new information.

"Ivan is your brother?"

"Yes, now please-"

"But, I thought Braginski's sister was after us on the motorcycle."

The woman seemed to shiver, and not because of the chilly Moscow weather.

"You must have met Natalia. Sh-she's a terror. Does anything my brother asks even if she knows it is wrong. My name is Katyusha, and I am Ivan's older sister. Now please, enough! I really must tell you how to locate my brother before it is too late."

The Briton nodded, and the girl finally renounced her grip to reach into her pocket. She pulled out what looked like blueprints on a scratched up piece of paper.

"This is the layout for both the backstage and the front grounds." She handed the paper to the spy and started fumbling at her belt for a set of keys. "But even better, let me take you as far I can. Ivan will almost certainly be-"

And of course, America took the most impromptu course of action, and chose to show up at that very moment. He came up behind the girl, removed his pistol from his waist, and whacked her right on the side of the head. The poor lass never even saw him coming as her unconscious form fell into England's arms.

"Alright! Perfect timing!" America smiled, as he grabbed the keys from the girl's belt.

"You-! You-!" England started furiously. America furrowed his brows confused, as the small Brit started to fume.

"You fool! You absolute insufferable fool! When did I say knocking the guard unconscious was part of the plan?"

America could almost see the blood vessels pulsing through England's thin and peachy skin. He didn't know what he had done wrong. Wasn't he supposed to like disorient her or something? Knocking someone cold certainly seemed to fit that description.

"Idiot! She was a part of the resistance! She was going to lead us straight to Braginski!"

Oh… well now Alfred could see where he'd gone wrong.

"Oops?" the American tried, while raising his shoulders and offering an apologetic smile.

England sighed irritated as he laid the motionless body down on the ground. When he stood again, he swiped the keys from Alfred and rolled his eyes.

"Please try to follow instructions next time, _hero_," the Briton mocked as he slid the correct key into the lock.

"Will do… I'm uh, really sorry England," America stated sincerely. England clicked the door open, and turned back to look at Alfred, what might be one last time.

"I know, I forgive you."

Alfred smiled gently, and the two quietly stepped in unnoticed. As Arthur glanced up at his new surroundings, the one thing that immediately caught his attention was a clock. It wasn't of particular significance to him, nor did it hold any type on anesthetic value, but it did of course display something quite vital. He motioned for Alfred to look at it too.

"But love, with only ten minutes left, we certainly don't have time for anymore mistakes."

* * *

England pulled out the map he'd managed to acquire before Alfred blundered up his plan. He scrutinized the paper, trying to make sense of it, while at the same time keeping a low profile as the two infiltrated the premise. At the moment, Alfred stood a few steps ahead of the Brit, ready to jump if anyone were to miraculously appear and meddle with the spies.

"Any luck, England?" Alfred murmured as they continued to move.

The Briton was silent for a few more moments before he looked up from the map and to his cohort.

"According to this," Arthur started a bit eagerly, "Braginski has his own personal quarters not far from here. We just passed storage closet 2, did we not?"

"We did."

"Well if we're consistent with the diagram, we should make a right turn at the next corridor, continue to the end, make a left, and the last room should be his chamber."

"Right, left, last door. Got it."

England followed accordingly, trying not to trail too far behind. The passages were narrow, and while he didn't think he'd get lost if he stuck close to America, he certainly didn't want test that theory and end up in another makeshift freezer.

The pair came to an intersection and Alfred hesitantly cocked his head around the corner before making a full body turn. England followed suit, and the two repeated this as they walked to the end of the hallway and made a right turn. Both seemed to slow as they found themselves in a long passageway; a sole door looming at the end.

"England, are you sure she was part of the resistance? Are you sure this isn't one big trap?"

Arthur pushed past the American and withdrew the pistol he'd garnered from Toris back at the Braginski mansion.

"Alfred, I honestly don't know anymore, but this is our only shot."

America nodded in agreement and pulled his own weapon. The two trudged down the rest of the hallway in uncomfortable silence; their steps, clad in leather loafers, making the only sounds. When the pair reached the end of the corridor, they were met with a large oak door. Not a word was spoken as the two stared up at the wooden barrier, and a whole minute passed before Alfred gently nudged the Briton, telling him it was time. Arthur nodded sharply and took a step back.

"Have your gun ready," the Brit barked to America.

"Gotcha-"

But before Alfred could finish, England lifted his leg and slammed it against the wood. It crashed, breaking open, as Arthur ducked to dodge any type of gunfire that might've come from the room. Alfred too, knelt, though he held his ground and his pistol in position. The two waited, hearts pounding, but no shots were returned at them. England carefully reached over and eased the door open a tad more, revealing a completely empty study. The two slowly stood back up to full height, and America was the first to panic.

"Shit! England he's not here! He's probably on stage already!"

"Alfred be quiet! The more you talk, the more likely it is we'll get caught, and I'm sure security already heard us break down the door! They're surely looking for us by now!"

"He's like, totally right ya know."

Both spies froze at hearing an unfamiliar voice. It was high pitched and tainted with a strong eastern European accent, and though it didn't sound particularly evil, the words this person spoke sent shivers down both their spines.

"Like seriously, turn around you guys."

Gradually the pair complied, turning warily to face their addressor. To the spies' surprise, while the man was dressed in a Zlo uniform, and aiming a gun at the duo, he didn't look the least bit intimidating. His stance gave off a type of flamboyant persona, and with long flowing hair, England couldn't help but be reminded of France. He bit back the growl that his memory had supplied.

"You two are the spies Ivan's been after, aren't you? He's gonna be totally pissed you're here."

Neither of the two answered, and apprehension settled in between both sides. The three men stood there, eyeing each other down until the blonde guard took a step forward wielding his gun.

"Well nobody likes it when Ivan gets mad. And I like, really don't want him taking it out on me, so I guess that only leaves me with one option."

Alfred glared down at the man but did not raise his own weapon. He was afraid that any sudden move would cause the guard to shoot. Instead, he spoke slowly, trying to compromise.

"You can have me. Take me to Braginski and let the bastard unleash his furry… as long as you let him go," Alfred suggested, motioning toward England.

"America…"

"If you let him leave, I'll drop all my weapons and you can do as you please."

Alfred took a step forward, allowing the gun the other man was yielding to graze his chest. He lowered his own loaded gun to his side, and begged the man with his eyes.

"Deal?"

The tension was unbearable to England, for not only were their lives at risk, but Alfred had just made one of the bravest decisions he had ever seen, and now the git might be killed for it and-

"Oh my god! That was so romantic!" the guard swooned beaming up at Alfred. "Are you two like, together, or was that like an 'I'm gonna die anyway so might as well confess my love' type thing?"

Both spies simply stared at the man bewildered and skeptical as he put his arms akimbo and waited for an answer.

"Oh I see! You guys are still confused! Ok lemme explain. I was never gonna kill you! I'm part of the resistance just like my friend Toris, we're together ya know, but I thought it would be totally funny if I tricked you guys! Now seriously, give me details, who tops?"

Alfred stood there fuming with his mouth agape, and his hands slowly curling in range. England, sensing this, quickly put a hand on his shoulder to try and calm the American.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING, ME?"

The man in the Zlo uniform took a step back in fear, concerned that Alfred might strike.

"WHAT THE HELL KIND OF A JOKE WAS THAT? YOU PRETEND TO KILL US, AND THENJUST SUDDENLY CHANGE YOUR TUNE?"

"Alfred," Arthur soothed, clamping a hand down on his shoulder. "Alfred, calm yourself."

"NO!" Alfred turned to scream at his partner. "DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN WHEN I JUST RISKED MY FUCKING LIFE FOR YOU!"

England's brows knotted in concern. He released Alfred, but pleaded for him to calm with his eyes.

"I'm like… really sorry. I didn't think you'd take it so harshly?" the foreign man tried. "But I like, really am here to help you. I can take you to Ivan."

Alfred released air through his nose, closing his eyes and trying to get his anger to subside. If they hadn't been in the situation they were in, the American would have definitely dealt a few punches to teach this guy a lesson. He opened his eyes gradually, somewhat more calm, as the anger had finally boiled down to mere annoyance.

"Ok," he started gravely. "You will take us to Ivan, and there will be no more jokes along the way."

The man nodded attentively, but then opened his mouth to speak.

"I uh… I can actually only take one of you to Ivan. The other one has to go to the control room."

"The control room?" Alfred started up again. "Why the hell can't we just both take out Bragins-"

"Because someone needs to try to short circuit the power to the speakers just as failsafe," Arthur cut him off. "If the other one can't manage to take down Ivan, we have another chance at saving all those people." He turned to face the uniformed guard, "Is that right?"

The long haired blonde nodded curtly before he answered.

"Yep. If the speakers don't work, he can't set off the bombs."

Alfred was silent as he contemplated this. If one of them went after Ivan, and the other went to the control room, then that meant-

"I'm not leaving you again," Alfred said with a somber expression. "I'm never leaving you again."

"Alfred, you don't understand-"

"No you don't seem to understand!" Alfred yelled while gripping onto England's shoulders. "You said you love me! And, and… I love you as well." He paused and almost paled as he continued, "I don't… I don't want to lose you again…"

"Alfred…" Arthur started softly, as he kept his gaze tight against his partner's. "Listen to me Alfred. There are people out there, hundreds of innocent people out there who are in more danger than I am." He paused to let that sink in. "That's why we came here. Our whole goal was to save all those people. It's the reason we met in the first place. Alfred… this is a responsibility that comes before personal love. Those people are at risk, and if we don't split up and take out Ivan, they will die. I need you to this, ok? I need you to do this for me."

America stared at him, blue eyes full of worry, anxiety and love. He squeezed England's shoulders.

"You've still got your ring?"

"It hasn't left my finger."

"If anything happens to you on your way to the hub, anything at all, you press that ring with all the damn energy you got, ok?"

"Alfred, I-"

Suddenly, clapping, cheering and excited screams could be heard not too far off.

"Ivan must have entered the stage," the guard said fretting. "Come on, we gotta go now."

Alfred nodded but then looked back at England.

"I may not know your real name, but I love you England. I hope you never forget."

"Alfred you make it sound as if you're going to die."

"Please! We have to go! You do like, have a map to the control room right?"

Arthur nodded at the third wheel, and then stepped away from the American.

"Alfred, if you make it through this, you'll learn a lot more than my name."

England lent up and kissed the younger man on the cheek quite feather-like. It was short and gentle, and by the time Alfred was aware of it, it was already gone. The Brit was off, sprinting down the narrow corridors and out of sight. Alfred turned back to the guard.

"For the record, we _are_ together," he paused signaling to the other blonde. "And I intend to keep it that way; now let's go."

* * *

Alfred followed directly behind as the resistance member brought him closer and closer to Braginski. It was quite unnerving to think that in just a few moments he'd come face to face with a truly malicious person. This Ivan guy was clearly insane. Who would want to kill hundreds of people for a kick, and then try to rule the airways? Well surely some super villain in a Hollywood movie would want to, but this wasn't Hollywood, no, this was real.

"We're like, almost there," spoke the long-haired blonde. "You better hurry since nobody is sure what phrase will set off the bombs."

"Got it."

The pair stopped at an open doorway and suddenly Alfred could see the stage. He stood at a side entrance, from which presumably, stagehands could scurry through from the back to the front of the arena. On the stage, Alfred could see the cause of all his trouble. Braginski had changed clothes sometime between locking them up and making his way here. He now adorned a very expensive looking suit. Although Alfred noticed, one accessory remained the same; that horrendous lavender scarf.

"I'm uh not sure what I can do for you from here. Just uh… good luck?"

"Thanks, I'm gonna need it."

And without considering the consequences, Alfred sprinted onto the stage.

* * *

"Welcome, welcome all of you to the release of Zlo's newest and most innovative creation. Now what you've all received is the latest prototype of that cellular, the Lovushka 320!"

"Oohs" and "Ahs" permeated through the crowd as Ivan Braginski held up the novel device.

"Yes, ladies and gentleman, this is the age of global importance, and today, Zlo industries will help the world acquire its goal of complete global communication. Today, damy i gospoda, the world will become on- UH!"

Gasps and yells were freed from the crowd as they watched the event's keynote speaker be tackled to the floor. The microphone in his hand went flying across the stage as his tall and cumbersome body was sent hurling onto the floor. Atop him was a blonde man, looking absolutely feral, as he pinned the Russian to the ground.

"You!" Braginski hissed as he pushed the American off of him. "How the hell did you get out?"

"I have my ways," Alfred retorted just as harshly as he leapt toward the felon.

Ivan stepped out of the way and caught the American's arm as he tried to land a punch. He twisted it improperly causing Alfred to wince out in pain.

"Did you learn nothing from your little boyfriend? I broke him, and I'll break you too," Ivan mocked as he threw Alfred to the floor. His glasses slid off his face once again, and he could feel a gash in his the side of his face. Something sticky was starting to surge from his cheek.

Alfred tried to get to his feet, but felt the weight of something settle on his back. He attempted to move his arms, but as he swung out, Ivan grabbed his limbs and twisted them behind his back. Alfred cried out in agony, biting his lip, and sucking up his pride.

"I have to say, I'm impressed you got this far," Braginski spoke slowly, accenting each syllable. "But it's too late, da? You've already lost."

Ivan lifted the two of them up off the floor and then threw Alfred's body back down harshly.

"I don't have time for your childish games," he said while walking over to the fallen microphone. "Security!"

"No!" Alfred yelled, getting up. He could see the Russian grasp the amplifier in his hand and ran at him once again. He held his breath as Ivan lifted the microphone to his lips. "No, no! Come on England!"

Ivan opened his mouth and started to speak in his native tongue, but it did not come outamplified. Alfred silently thanked god that the Briton managed to extinguish the power and prevented Ivan's voice from ringing out through the park.

Braginski looked confused now, not quite sure what was going on. He tried to speak again, but at that, Alfred ran and rammed his fist right into the Russian's stomach, halting the flow of words from his mouth. He knocked the air out of him again, causing Braginski to fall afresh, but the Russian refused to relinquish his grip on the amplifier. Alfred pinned him to the ground again, yet Ivan still managed to lift the microphone to his lips once more.

"No matter, I do have a back up generator that should kick in any second now."

The American's eyes widened in horror and realization as a sudden screech was emitted from the microphone. No… no! This wasn't happening.

"Ah, very good," Ivan spoke clearly into the object, no hint of distress apparent in his voice.

Alfred's mind was racing, thinking, reasoning, mulling over any possible solution. He clamped a hand over Ivan's mouth, but that was only a temporary solution as the Russian quickly shoved the obstruction off.

"_Think, Alfred, think! Oh god, what do you have? Gun, ring, oh my god!"_

Alfred relinquished his hand from where it had attempted to conceal the Russians words, and dug in his pocket for the last remaining gadget he'd been given way back when.

_France picked up a small package of chewing gum, "This is extremely adhesive, sticks to absolutely everything besides the wrapper. Do not under any circumstances touch it, but it can be useful in sticky situations."_

_England snickered as the Frenchman passed the package to America._

_"What do you think you're doing France, equipping a child? You haven't given me that chewing gum as a tool since I was 17."_

_France simply brushed of the comment and smiled, "You never know Angleterre, might come in handy."_

America could not believe the immense amount of irony in that conversation as he recalled the exchange of words between France and England. He'd be sure to insist that the Brit never spoke lowly of a childish tool ever again.

Alfred pulled the pack of chewing gum from his trousers and slipped out a stick. He unwrapped it carefully, making sure to touch only the binding, and not actually the gum itself.

Ivan was no longer paying him any mind, holding the microphone to his lips, he was ready to detonate the explosives. Alfred held firmly, and the moment Ivan opened his mouth, he stuck the candy between his teeth.

Braginski squirmed. He tried to open his mouth but to absolutely no avail. The extremely sticky gadget kept his lips locked in place, unable to utter a word. Alfred finally smiled, knowing it was over, he'd won, but now something else was causing him to fret; footsteps. He could hear them, clearly now, coming forward from rows in the audience. He cursed, lifted himself off Braginski but then glanced back down at the villain, not knowing what to do. He couldn't leave him here, for even though his plot to ignite the bombs had failed, he was still considered dangerous. Alfred mentally raked his brain for ideas.

"America!" someone shouted from the door to the stage where he'd entered, and Alfred turned to find Canada standing there. "Come here!"

The young spy wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but since Canada was his top advisor, he followed the instructions and ran backstage. Canada sprinted with him, leading the pair out of the theater and to an unmarked, black car parked outside.

"I'll explain everything later, now g-get in," Canada said as he got into the driver's seat.

"What about Braginski?" Alfred asked a bit distressed.

"The Russian authorities have been a-alerted, and were in the midst of running up on stage as we left. G-get in."

Alfred tried to recall who had been the cause of the footsteps, and realized he didn't really know. He'd just assumed it was guards who worked for Braginski, but perhaps it was the police. He trusted that on Canada's behalf.

"America, get in!"

But Alfred couldn't bring himself to do so.

"What about England?" he questioned with a fervent tone.

"F-France is here as well, h-he'll get him."

And at that moment, Alfred noticed an exact copy of the unmarked car Canada had brought was situated on the other side of the street. It must no doubt belong to France.

"A-America, get in before someone finds us, and the whole agency is compromised!"

Alfred looked back at the entry they'd exited through and then back at the car door. He opened it, and got in but kept his eyes glued on the exit as Canada pulled away. Relief did not wash over him until he made out two sets of blonde hair running frantically from the exit of the stage to the other vehicle.

They'd made it.

They were alive.

But America couldn't help but note with a frown, that they'd completed their affair.

* * *

Footsteps hit the cold concrete in sync as two men walked through the dark, shadowed halls of a secret building deep in the heart of London.

"A-America, I'm glad your back. After your last assignment's success, I'm sure you can't wait for your next mission."

Alfred hummed with indifference as he glanced along the lit walkways. His hands were in his pockets, and he tried to look calm, but even Canada could tell he seemed a bit out of sorts.

"W-wow it's only been two w-weeks, can you believe it? F-feels like so much more since you took out Braginski."

America flicked his eyes over to the other man, smiling softly, though still lost in thought.

"Yeah, it feels like ages. Did they ever manage to get the gum to detach from the bastard's mouth?" the blue-eyed man questioned.

"I do believe they're w-working on something. To quote France directly, 'We're working on creating a semen, oh no I'm sorry, a _serum_ to disjoin the substance.'"

Alfred chuckled, yet his mind still seemed to be elsewhere. Canada picked up on this, and set a hand on his coworker's shoulder.

"S-something wrong, America?"

Alfred looked up, and spared only a quick glance at his friend.

"Oh… I was just wondering how England was. I mean… I know that protocol states that once a mission is completed, colleagues must remain separated for at least a fortnight to reduce the risk of the agency being discovered, but…"

"Y-you really liked working with England, d-didn't you?"

America smiled weakly as he felt some colour dot his cheeks. There was still a mark on the right side of his face from the fight with Braginski, but soon it would heal completely.

"Yeah, I did," America mumbled.

"And after all that arguing at the beginning, who would have thought..."

"Yep…" Alfred quietly agreed. "Who would have thought?"

At that the Canadian stopped abruptly and turned to face a large metal door. He slid a key card through a reader to its right and then turned to face the American.

"W-well I have some good news for you then, America."

Alfred paused in his step as well, turning curiously to Canada.

"A surprise?"

Canada pushed open the wrought metal door, and revealed to Alfred his _surprise_.

In the center of the room stood a sleek black sofa, and seated atop that sofa was someone who made Alfred's face explode into a brilliant smile.

"Hullo, America."

"England!"

The Brit smiled gently as he got up to greet his counterpart, but America ran to him instead. He scooped him up in a hug, crushing him, until the Briton was gasping for air.

"I'll leave you two alone for a bit," Canada suggested as he softly closed the door, and left the two spies to themselves.

Alfred turned the Brit around, and as he took a seat on the couch, he brought England down to straddle his lap.

"I've missed you," America muttered softly, as he nuzzled the Brit's neck. "I haven't seen you since you left for the control room."

England smiled sweetly and kissed Alfred on the tip of the nose.

"Sorry to make you worry. Didn't Canada tell you I got out alright?"

"Well he said France was coming to get you, and when we were leaving, I was pretty sure I saw to blondes run out and into the other unmarked car."

"Well that was us, no doubt. I still don't understand why the frog had to come and get me. I would have much preferred Canada."

Alfred let out a boisterous laugh, and brought England closer, causing the smaller man to blush. The American looked down at the man in his lap, and suddenly something dawned on him.

"How's your hand doing?"

The two of them glanced down in sync at the Briton's right hand, which was now properly bandaged and assisted.

"It's healing. The doctor said somewhere between 6-8 weeks. I won't be able to go on a mission until then."

Alfred looked up from the man's hand to his stunning emerald eyes. He didn't understand why the past two weeks took such a hold on him, but now, now that England was in his arms he knew.

"You know… I'm really glad Braginski tried to take over the world."

"Are you?" the Briton said with a smirk across his face.

Alfred smiled as he pulled England uptight against his chest.

"I am. Ya know why?"

The Brit shook his head, and Alfred smiled once more.

"Because if he hadn't done that, I never would have met you."

England's cheeks blew up into a whirlwind of colour, as a vibrant shade of rose quickly covered his face.

"You're a sentimental fool, you know that?"

The American only grinned at him.

"That may well be, but it's only because I love you England."

Alfred leaned in to plant a kiss on long awaited British lips, but instead was met with a palm.

"You don't love England," the Briton said, trying to do away with the blush on his cheeks.

"I don't?" the American furrowed his brows, confused.

"You love Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."

Alfred couldn't help but let a very happy grin spread across his lips. He wasn't quite sure whether he was elated over the fact that England had told him his real name, or the fact that he'd fallen in love, or even just that any of this had happened in the first place. Either way, he couldn't remember feeling happier than he did at this very moment.

"But Alfred, remember," Arthur whispered gently against his lips. "This affair is confidential."

And they consented with a kiss.


End file.
